Nine years later...

On the outskirts of Mahdiya, beyond the vast desert, a small city rests. Its dusty streets were bathed in perfect moonlight. Glass bottles glistened in the hands of men, casting colorful shades on the sand. Groups of them staggered aimlessly, shouting, singing, and sometimes fighting, all centered around a building on the eastern edge of the city.

The building’s stone walls barely contained the commotion inside. A soft Arabic melody played, barely audible over the voices of drunken men. The mingling scents of sweat and liquor hung heavily in the cool night air. As the moon became full, the last caravan rolled into town. She gazed at the moon through the cracks in the wooden boards that sealed her window. Through the gaps, the moonlight cast shadows of dark figures moving along the brick walls. "That old hag! I told you we couldn’t trust her; she played us," one man grumbled to another.

Waiting patiently in the dark, her face pressed against the wood, leaving the marks of nail heads across her cheeks, she listened to their complaints, just as she did every night. Finally, the footsteps she had been waiting for arrived, growing louder as they approached. Light that had streamed under the door vanished with the heavy steps, and the sound of multiple keys turning in the lock began.

She moved to her mat, strategically centered in the tiny room. Instinctively, she held her breath, bracing herself for her fate, as always. The door swung open, and a large woman entered, instantly lifting the darkness and silence from the room.

"Mama, is that you?" The girl squinted against the sudden flood of light.

"Who else?" the woman replied, her mouth parting to release a familiar tobacco-stained breath.

No doubt she had been smoking the hookah again. "What do they call you again?" she asked, inspecting the room as she unlocked the window.

"Hey, get moving!" she shouted out to the people outside.

"Mina," the girl murmured, low enough that the woman didn’t hear her.

"Ah! Whatever. Look here, girl, Al-Makhtum is full tonight, so you know the rules."

Mina gathered her strength and stood up, throwing herself at the woman in a tight embrace.

"Get off, you poor soul!" Mina slid her hand into the woman’s pouch, where she kept her spare keys.

"Mama Samira, thank you! You are very kind, mistress," Mina said, clinging to her until she found the key.

Mama Samira threw her to the ground as soon as she loosened her grip.

"Stupid girl! You’ve ruined my dress. You will pay for this!" she snarled, leaving the room and locking the door behind her.

This was the day Mina planned to gain her freedom from her master. Mina, the name given to her by the townsfolk, knew little about her parents. The only thing Mama Samira used to say was, "Unfortunate girl. Your parents gave their lives for you, only for you to become my slave. How pitiful." She would always accompany these words with a mocking expression that haunted Mina. Despite the cruelty, these words were a reminder that at some point, she had been important—important enough for someone to give their life for her.

Al-Makhtum was no place for a child, especially a girl. Mama Samira made sure to hide Mina well, allowing her only to help with house chores and errands, but never to appear when the tavern was packed. She taught Mina everything, from cleaning, sewing, and cooking light meals to tending to badly injured guests—though Mina always ended up vomiting afterward.

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Sometimes she was the victim of her master’s temper, especially when Mama Samira had too much to drink, which was almost every night given she owned a tavern. By the time Mina was nine, she knew she had to escape before things got worse. Her master was always busy at night, so slipping away would be easy.

Tonight would be her last in the tavern. She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, bathed in moonlight. Her skinny frame and olive skin barely visible, her short, dark hair standing like spikes, piercing the light to form small rays. Her white-patched dress, more yellowed with time, was still her nicest, but it had long passed its prime. She slipped on her grey slippers, which were full of holes, courtesy of the mice that shared the tavern with her.

Mina retrieved her copper pendant from the trunk—a rounded piece of metal with two swords crossed, engraved into its surface. It was tied around her neck with a cloth string. She remembered the first time her master showed it to her. It was the first piece of jewelry she had ever seen. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, and Mama Samira used it to manipulate her, making her work twice as hard for something of little worth.

She tied a shawl over her head, leaving only her eyes visible. After one last look around, she took the key from beneath her garments. Her hands trembled as she carefully unlocked the door. After several turns, it opened. She poked her head out, scanning the empty corridor.

Satisfied that no one was around, she left the room and perched herself at the top of the stairs, leading down to the busy hall. Crouching in the shadows, she surveyed the scene below. Different people of all sizes and shapes filled the space. Some smoked, others drank and gambled.

Several dancers helped Mama Samira serve drinks, moving rhythmically to the music. Their reflective, revealing clothes did little to cover their bodies. They were all slaves like her, but unlike her, they weren’t caged in one of Al-Makhtum’s many rooms. They only appeared at night, and by morning, they were gone.

Mina moved down the stairs swiftly, blending into the sea of men, unnoticed in the shadows. She made her way to a table close to the large wooden door that led to the streets. The men surrounding the table made it shake as they played a game of maisir.

The game seemed near its end. After a moment, curses echoed as the losing party conceded defeat. Hidden among the crowd, she spotted Mama Samira surveying the tables. She watched as two men gathered their winnings and bid their farewells. Taking her chance, she slipped under the cloak of one of the men, escaping with them, too drunk and excited to notice her presence.

Mina had no idea where to go now that she was finally free. The only thing she wanted was to get as far away from Mama Samira as possible. For a moment, fear of the unknown made her consider returning. Just as she was about to turn back, a drunken man bumped into her, spilling the contents of his glass onto the ground.

Without looking back, she ran after the two men, following them to a stable where she decided to spend the night. Despite the darkness, she managed to find an empty cage next to a large animal. The space was tight, but she fit snugly beside the creature, its soft bed of dried grass providing a surprisingly comfortable place to sleep.

Morning arrived quickly. She awoke to sunlight filtering through the thatched roof, falling on her face. Voices of men discussing their journey reached her ears. Mina knew she had to hide quickly, or risk being caught and dragged back to her master, who was likely cursing her escape by now.

She got up quickly, realizing the animal wasn’t as large as it seemed. The huge orange baskets tied to its sides had made it appear much bigger. Without hesitation, she climbed into one of the nearly empty baskets, the few fabrics inside providing a cushion. Through small holes in the woven basket, she could see her surroundings.

"Everyone, get in formation! We ride for Mahdiya!" a coarse voice boomed, followed by the sound of footsteps, creaking metal, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves. Mina's heart raced as the camel lifted her off the ground, her empty stomach flipping. The swaying basket made her dizzy, but she held on.

Peeking out, she saw horses and camels lined up, ready to march through the city gates and into the desert. The same coarse voice rang out again. "Brothers, let us ride."

As the camel passed through the city gates, Mina couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth from the bright sun above. It was her first time on the road alone. She was scared, but she had never felt more free.

The journey stretched for two days. The endless sands became a familiar sight, the rhythmic hoofbeats a constant melody. Hunger gnawed at her, and the dusty air was a constant reminder of the desert’s harshness. At night, the cold was bearable thanks to the fabrics that kept her warm. Even when they camped, she didn’t leave the basket, her mind occupied with thoughts of what to do next.

It was noon on the second day when she saw the large steel gates ahead, the only opening in a high wall. Forts above housed soldiers, ever alert. More soldiers inspected the traders’ goods as they approached. Fear gripped Mina. If they found her, she couldn’t imagine what would happen. She trembled as the camel came to a stop, her mind racing to come up with a plan.