Page 60 of Under the Arabian Sky

Habibi, on the other hand, seemed to be able to piece together some semblance of where she was. Lurching and pushing against the gale-force winds, she made her way deeper and deeper into the storm.

“Tariq! Tariq!” I called futilely into the wind; my voice instantly carried away.

Time disappeared.

I had no idea how long we’d been trudging through the tumult.

I had no idea how long Habibi could keep up her search before we too became lost in the storm.

I had no idea how long I could cling to the hope that we’d find them until—

“Over there!” I shouted excitedly to Habibi, who of course knew exactly where she was going.

She was heading toward the faint outline of a mound.

It was only a few feet ahead of us, but battling the raging wind and the whipping sand, it might as well have been a hundred miles away.

Habibi forced herself onward through the torrent.

The mound took on a more defined shape through the gale.

I could make out the hump of Huda’s back. She was kneeling on the ground, staying as low as she could, and laying beside her, still and silent, was—

“Tariq!”

I jumped off Habibi’s back, not waiting for her to kneel for me to dismount.

I hit the sand with a thud, the distance to the ground further than I anticipated, but I didn’t care.

Quickly I climbed to my feet and fought my way against the storm until I reached Huda and dropped to my knees beside Tariq.

He was unconscious but had clearly tried to burrow his way as close to Huda’s side as he could to protect himself from the storm before he passed out.

“Tariq! Tariq!”

I saw the empty bird cage strapped to Huda’s saddle. He must have managed to release the bird just before the storm hit.

“Tariq! Tariq, can you hear me?”

I tried to shake him awake.

I pressed my ear to his covered mouth.

He was barely breathing; the only thing I could hear over the wind was a feeble wheeze coming from his lips.

Habibi had by now stepped up to her mother, the pair communicating to each other in groans and grumbles. I rummaged swiftly through the saddle bag and found the inhaler that Zahra had given me. I fell to my knees beside Tariq and with all my strength I sat him up. I pulled the ghutra away from his mouth, pressed the inhaler against his lips and pressed down on the dispenser.

I prayed Tariq was taking in some of the drug, but it was impossible to tell with his shallow breathing.

I pressed the dispenser again.

This time Tariq’s body rocked with a cough.

He gasped, his eyes opening and his hands clumsily taking the inhaler in his own grip, as though he was suddenly aware that the life-giving medication was in his hands.

He pressed down on the dispenser and took in the deepest breath.

He coughed again, his body rattling before his eyes looked up and saw me. “Arthur,” he rasped in a voice that was frail yet full of relief. “What are you doing here?”

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