“Who gave you this nickname?”

  Gany looked down at her sandals as they walked, rolling his question over in her mind. The low dusk eclipsed the now warm sand and rock in warm pinks and purples and the pinpricks of stars began to peek through the coming night. They’d been walking for several hours since they’d become acquainted earlier today and the disappearance of the sun amplified the weariness in their feet. She slowed down to which he followed suit.

  “My mother,” she said, pausing to take a swig from her water-skin. She offered it to him and he tentatively accepted. “She said I was soft and sweet as a child and helped my siblings and even my grandmother a lot. Thats what it means, carer. Or sweetheart.”

  He returned the water to her and looked ahead pensively. “That’s a beautiful nickname. I was called Gelo, you can guess why.” He sweeped his long arms down the length of his frame. It was rather common for tall people to be nicknamed a camel, but it very well suited Garad and his lanky frame awkward movements, even how he stood up was reminiscent of the long and languid movements of a camel.

  “They’re so creative.” She said.

  “What’s your real name?”

  “Garissa.”

  “Doesn’t this also mean the same thing as your nickname?” He asked.

  “No, my mother was from the Deep South. Down there it can literally mean someone who reaches or it can figuratively mean someone who can make ends meet.”

  He laughed then, which was sudden and short and somehow disarming.

  “Subane used to tell me he wasn’t born into his people but married into them and now I really understand why,” he chuckled again as Gany gave him a questioning look. “He was a straightforward man but his family were anything but. When he married you he said he understood your family so well for their literal nature, as though he should’ve been born of your tribe.”

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  She smiled to herself and welcomed the memory of her husband. Hearing him mentioned by someone else was soothing, like a child being reassured that their toys would be there when they returned. She missed him, she missed everyone, so very much.

  They stopped next to an acacia with a wide canopy and ample shade atop a slight elevation. It was comfortable as well as marginally safer to sleep under. Gany unwrapped her shawl and checked for fire ants, using the tassels to sweep small rocks and critters from where she’d lay, sat down on her sandals and promptyl began to rub her feet. The ache of the day’s walk crept up in the hardening calluses of her feet and the relentless sun on their foreheads.

  “Maybe we should just travel at night instead.” She mumbled as Garad sat across from her, removing his light robes before leaning against the tree for support.

  “I’ll take first watch,” Garad offered.

  “Thank you.” She said and rest her head on her balled up shawl. Mede stood by the tree gazing out at the high desert. They were the only people around for as far as the eye could see.

  Garad took a deep sigh, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. The sky was rather clear and starry and the gibbous moon cast pale lights and shadows across the plains. In the distance enormous canyons rose from the rocky ground and the sparse greenery only slightly thickened at the foot of the cliffs suggesting the presence of water and probably even life. He took off his head wrap revealing a clean shaved head and accentuating his high cheekbones. His eyes were wide and piercing and nose tall and proud. He had the essence of a high society scribe or advisor to the Sultan rather than a humble well digger.

  “How did you meet my husband,” Gany asked. She was on her side now, arm propping up her head.

  “I used to go to his apothecary. My job was hard on my body and he gave me some warming ointments to massage my muscles. I dig wells so spending hours using most of your strength in a small hole is very taxing. Not to mention the long journeys. Sometimes I find work in such far places and even with rest, it takes its toll on me. He was understanding of this, actually in general, and sometimes when I couldn’t afford the ointment he would give it to me anyway and tell me God would provide.” As he spoke his eye glistened with longing for his friend and she felt her own moisten in longing for her husband.

  “He really was a giver wasn’t he.” She said.

  “How did you meet him?” Garad asked. He adjusted his robes about himself so one arm was out and the other tucked in around his waist.

  “My mother was connected to his family — a childhood friend of hers. I think eventually she saw us together at a gathering and supported us to get to know each other more. It was a bit messy at first because another girl liked him. I think it’s obvious who won that.” She smiled at the memory. She felt some ease at remembering such a simple, non threatening thing for once and not the blazing fires and rolling smoke.

  They both settled into their roles for the night, one sleeping and the other keeping watch, and Mede took to the top of the tree for a safer sleeping spot.