Bint of Gilgit ~ Pakistani Love Story ~ ONGOING ~

Cold Greetings

The peace of the woods had soon become shadowed by the growing frustration within him. Asadullah had been walking for an hour now - his Louis Vuitton shoes were tainted a moss green while his hands had small prick marks from the nettles.  Making quick judgments was not his style, but it was fair to say that he already hated this place. 

GPS had failed him and his mobile phone was nothing, but a wasteful gadget in this rebellious place. His father had definitely set him up - knowing Asadullah's lightning-fast temper was sure to be tried in a place that refused to accommodate someone like him. And he had been a fool - taking a job off his father's hands without doing his own research first. What an amateur mistake on his part. 

The sweet sound of an engine drifted to his ears and he lifted his onyx colored eyes to the sky. A plane - chartered, no doubt was gliding beautifully through the slightly cloudy horizon. Asadullah caught the logo - the black panther stood out as he did in these lush green woods and only then did realization dawn upon him. 

His father had not only set him up but had also sent competition his way. One of his half-brothers, no doubt Khalid - would be attempting to steal the deal with these bumpkins before he could. And then he would win favor with his father and the Black Panther Mafias . . . like hell, he would let anyone steal what was his.

Taking a sharp turn, Asadullah began to head back to the Forbidden Valley. At this point, he could not trust Fahad and Imad to do the job. No, they were far too lax - they would never understand the importance and the burden of taking this shoddy piece of land. They had never faced rivalry as he had - they had not become competitors with their own kin as he had. 

Flocks of sheep bleated loudly halting him in his hurried trek. Two girls - dressed oddly and no doubt in the custom clothing of the tribe guided the sheep down the ridge by the side of the valley. For a few moments, he watched with mild fascination at the expert handling of the task, but then upturned his nose in repulsion when the smell of dung exploded the comforting smell of leaves and petrichor in the woods. Goddamn farmers.

"I wonder what happened now!" The whiny blonde commented. She seemed young - he estimated to have at least eight years on her. "Why must they signal the bells over something small? It always disturbs our chores!" 

The other one did not comment - her face obscured by her golden halo of hair. Asadullah had traveled extensively throughout Pakistan, yet never had he come across such distinct features on his fellow countrymen. This place was full of surprises, it seemed. 

"First it was the plane, now it is the bell! I think something is up, Nazli!" 

Asadullah smirked knowingly. Of course - Fahad and Imad were likely causing a scene back in their pathetic shack-like houses. No doubt about it, although he secretly hoped that they had not done too much collateral damage. One or two would have done the job into scaring these oafs into handing over their land. 

"Ruko! Nazli, who are those men? And by Allah, they have rifles in their hands!" Fear was practically emitting from her like a scent and he was evermore relieved. Once upon a time seeing fear on the faces of men as they would yield before him would bring him ecstasy like pleasure, but over the years that feeling had been snubbed down. The death of his mother had returned some of his humanity back. 

"Jaldi! We should go straight to the stables! Hamza and Sikandar will be ready with our guns!" He watched eagle-eyed as they disappeared off to the side of the valley, stumbling over their long dresses. Hmm, so the yokels had rejected every other modern invention except guns. Asadullah couldn't help, but be slightly impressed. This meant they would not be easy and while that did not help his cause, he always loved a challenge. And on a plus side, Khalid would have little chance of winning them over anyway.