Arabs are well known for their culture, Poetry, and hospitality. They are also recognized for their valor and leadership. Badr, son of Sheikh Faisal, a valiant knight known among the tribes.
Due to his father's grave illness, Badr is named the lead...
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~*He who does not know his past cannot make the best of his present and future, for it is from the past that we learn~* HisHighness Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan
Four Moons later
The desert sky greeted the heavy clouds that showered down with an intense speed. Even though it was dhuhr, the world was gloomy due to the dreary clouds. As far as the eye could see dark clouds had enveloped the sky in its thick veil. Sagr al fursan, along with his companions, sat under a large tree on plain land as the wind turned vicious. Badr leaned against the tree trunk with his hands crossed over his chest, his ax and sword on his right. His hair that reached his shoulder; drenched.
"Ya Saif, use your senses and discover us a sanctuary." Dhiyab groaned, hiding behind the horse that stood behind him.
Jabbir looked at Dhiyab and smirked. The man reminded him of Nasser, Faris's brother. However, Dhiyab had an esoteric side that plagued him, making him question Badr's judgment in permitting Dhiyab in this journey. "There is nothing in sight for miles, Dhiyab. We shall wait until the rain subsides."
Badr disregarded their jesting and gazed at the raindrops falling on the sand. Every time a drop descended, the water splattered around, causing ripples in the newly formed puddle. The weather was unsympathetic, and gooseflesh rose on his skin due to the chilly breeze.
He closed his eyes and endeavored to recall how it felt to be inside his father's homely warm tent. Just as he commenced to feel the warmth in his heart, his father's face drenched in blood flashed before his eyes. Instantly, Badr opened his eyes and curled his right hand to hide the quiver from the men around him.
Ever since they departed from the tribe, horrifying dreams haunted him. It did not matter if he was asleep or awake; Badr continually saw his father's face, his blood that still felt warm on his hands. Uncrossing his arms, Badr ran his hands over his face. His thobe clung on his chest, and arms and dirt coated his sandals.
He turned to look at his right Jabbir, and Dhiyab sought refuge from their horse: whereas Saif sat right below the rain. The man was indeed one with nature: nothing bothered him. Badr's gaze once again landed on Dhiyab and recalled how the man had joined them. When Badr sat alone with Dhiyab to discuss certain matters; then he disclosed why he so ardently desired to join Badr.
Dhiyab was just as damaged as Badr: there was a deep scar in his heart that bled every day. A few moons ago, Dhiyab had been away with his fellow knights for hunting: on that hapless day, the burglars raided his tribe. Unlike, the Rashideen they were not as fortunate. The bandits not only looted but massacred many of the tribesmen. Many were martyrs, and what turned Dhiyab into a fiend was the death of his spouse, who died while carrying their first offspring. And ever since then, Dhiyab had been searching for a way to avenge his spouse.
