Imorah has lived her entire life underground. She found a note this morning warning her to escape to the surface before it's too late...
Above ground, in the desert wasteland, Liran has lived a life in hiding. There's a warrant out for his arrest...
They were trudging to Grandmother's. The sun was entering its crown and Liran was exhausted, but they must get there.
Hannah was holding his right hand, while he balanced the water on his shoulders, steadying it with his other hand. She had left with him remarkably easily considering how scared she'd been when he first met her.
He told her that the village was in danger, and she hadn't needed much convincing. He had dug up all the meal bars, and sat down with her to eat one. She hadn't eaten more than a third of hers before she was full.
And then they'd started walking.
They walked in silence, but Liran's mind was busy with thoughts. Primarily a grinding anger towards his father, remembering all of the horrible things he had done to them over the years, and imagining all of the horrible things he had done while Liran had been gone.
Then there was Zahra. The thought of her now brought tears immediately to his eyes, so he pushed the thought of her away.
Then came his mother — that thought made his blood boil, his heart pumping with fury, and brought him straight back to his father. It was a circle of sadness, guilt and anger.
They had walked for hours. He was bringing Hannah to stay with the Grandmother, the old hermit who lived a few hours outside of the village. The Grandmother could decide what to do — she would warn the village, although Liran wondered if that was necessary. They already had Zahra. They must have taken her as ransom.
Liran would leave Hannah with The Grandmother for a few days while he tracked down his father and retrieved Phiona. The Grandmother must have news of Tashin, his father, for they had a special bond, one that Liran had never understood. Tashin respected Grandmother, in a way that he didn't respect anyone else. He was truly afraid of her.
And Grandmother didn't like Tashin either, and in fact, she showed a profound dislike of him. Liran still remembered the time when Grandmother had chastised Liran's father for the man he had become. Right directly in front of Liran. It had shocked him — it was the only time he'd seen his father say, "Sorry," to anyone.
And yet, despite all this, Grandmother had always taken care of Tashin. During any fever, any injury, she always came immediately and helped him heal. She used her strange medicines on him. For some reason, she protected him. Of course, she was willing to help everyone, but she kept a special eye on Tashin.
Liran still remembered the night many years ago when he had been running with Phiona and he'd met The Grandmother in the desert. What had she said? 'He has a role to play in all of this still.' Something like that.
Finally, after a few more hours of walking, they made it to Grandmother's. He could see the yurt in the distance, in the next dip of the landscape.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Liran was surprised they had seen no drones, but since they had already taken Zahra, maybe they wouldn't care about the village anymore?
They arrived and Grandmother wasn't there. This wasn't unusual, and so they ducked into the yurt, and sat there, around the fireplace, which had a u-shape of sheepskins round it, with a large mantle on the fourth side, covered in all kinds of things: candles, dishes, drying herbs, crystals, bones and feathers.
They touched absolutely nothing. Liran sat with his legs outstretched, and soon enough, Hannah fell asleep at his side. Her shallow child's breath was regular and soothing. Liran was tempted to lie down as well.
He had nodded off, sitting against a giant wicker basket full of wool, when he was awoken by the sound of someone entering the yurt. Liran turned and said, "Hello grandmother."
"Hello, Liran," she answered, as if she had been expecting him. She didn't look up or give any sign of surprise. She groaned when she stood up, and Liran noticed how much she had aged. Her back was hunched over, and she stooped barely four feet off the ground.
She took her customary seat around the fire, the third spot that they had left free. That was her spot and you knew without even asking not to touch it. She immediately started making a fire, not even asking Liran what he was doing here, or why he was in a funny suit, or what he was doing with Hannah. She didn't even make eye contact.
Liran felt his cheeks go red. Would she force him to speak first? What should he say? He licked his lips. "Um, Grandmother."
"Yes," she said, bending low, blowing on two coals she'd dug up out of the bottom of the fire pit, two glowing red pieces of coal, shed stored in a metal tin underneath the ashes.
"I need your help." Better just start with the truth, no sense hiding it.
The woman kept looking down — the tiny scaps of hay and scruff she'd put on the coals caught fire and she gave it a dried cow dung mixed with hay, which immediately started smoking.
"I need you to take Hannah for a little while. I'll come back for her, I promise. And..." Liran licked his lips, incredibly nervous.
The woman finally looked up. "Yes?"
"I need to know where my father is," he gulped. He managed to get it out straight, looking her in the eye.
She took a deep breath, as if she were suddenly very tired, then she looked down and picked up a large, metal jug, lifting it dextrously, and pouring water into a pot sitting on two rocks in the fire.
"I need to know where he is!" Liran yelled. He put his hand to his mouth, shocked at himself.
The Grandmother's hand rattled as she put the lid on the pot, the only betrayal that she herself had been rattled by his outburst.
Hannah had woken up, and she was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes. She looked quietly up at Liran, who put his arm around her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry, go back to sleep. Everything's alright."
But the little girl didn't obey him, she only turned her attention to Grandmother.
"It's okay," Grandmother said, soothing, and held her hand out to the girl.
Hannah got up and went to the old lady's side, and hugged her. The little girl started crying, and the Grandmother patted her hair.
"You're going to take care of Hannah now?" Grandmother asked.
Liran couldn't read her face. Did she seem sceptical or simply curious? "Yes," he answered affirmatively. "I don't know how or where, but I'm going to take her away from here, but I need to talk to my father first." Liran's jaw was grinding as he said the word, 'father' and it felt like a curse word in his throat.
"Liran, why don't you take Hannah now? Forget your father."
"No!" Liran yelled.
The little girl jumped, but Grandmother remained completely unfazed.
"I need to speak with him. I need... to hear it from his own mouth... what he did to her." Liran had trouble saying the words. Tears came to his eyes.
"Rest first, and we'll talk tonight."
"No," Liran responded, limply. "I won't."
"Yes, you will."
Liran looked at her, and said through clenched teeth, "he has the — what did you call it?" Liran tried to remember that night — "The abomination — right? That's what you called it. You remember — Phiona? He took her, and if I can get her back than I might get Zahra back."
Grandmother seemed only vaguely curious. "How does that work?" she asked.
"If I can get Phiona back, then I can trade her for Zahra. I can get Zahra back."
Hannah sat up, and wiped away the long strands of hair that had stuck to her face. She wiped her tears away. "Zahra?" she asked.
"Yes, if I can find that murderous bastard, then I might be able to save Zahra." And what he didn't say out loud was, And if I can find Tashin, then I can kill the bastard.
