[piosenniel]

‘Mami, look!’ cried Ajdal, his fat baby fingers reaching up to brush the colored strands that hung from the low branches of the tree as he ran beneath them. ‘Look, look!’ his sister Naar, took up the cry, her arms outstretched like a great bird flying. ‘We are touching the rainbow!’ Little fingers riffled through the nearly dried strands, sent them quivering in hued delight. Ashum, clapped his chubby baby hands together, laughing at the colors shimmering in the bright sun.

Qamar rested in the shade of a rocky overhang, her back against the cool rock, and watched her children at play. She checked them frequently, shading her eyes against the sun to make sure they kept in sight. There were vague stirrings of uneasiness in the tribe of late, and there were some young ones she did not trust. Shifty-eyed, disrespectful. Their attention she noted was often on the young children. Like jackals she thought, waiting to pick off the weaker. She had already spoken to her mother about these vague feelings of hers, and the she, too, had voiced the same uneasiness. Her mother had promised to speak of it to the other tribal elders, and Qamar wondered if she had done so yet.

Layla and Ihab came running from their tent, Qirfah following close behind. Ihab pulled at his mother’s skirts, and she crouched down to speak with him as Laylah went laughing to join her cousins among the multicolored streamers. She waved gaily at her auntie, drawing Qirfah’s attention to the three of them.

Perhaps it was a trick of the sun as it caught the tableau of mother and son in profile, or her suspicious side had been aroused, but the sight of those two, their heads bent together laughing made her sit up with a gasp of surprise. His small dark eyes were fixed on his mother’s face and his long, thick lashes brushed his cheeks, when he blinked, in a way that niggled at the back of her mind. And his mouth, the curve of his lips, from the side as he smiled seemed familiar . . .

Qirfah stood, waving her son off to his playmates, then came to sit by her sister. Her countenance was thoughtful as she gathered her skirts and sat down, as if she were sorting out the many thoughts in her mind, seeking the best way to bring them out.

Qamar sat silently, pretending to watch the children at play, her eyes sliding often to regard the storm of thoughts and feelings that played across her sister’s face. She held her breath, fearing what Qirfah might want of her. Her eyes flicked once again to the children.

Oh, please, let it not be so . . .

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]