Mariam Finds Her Wings
Mariam’s face was just as stormy as the dark clouds tumbling above the black tent. “Please, Babba,” she begged. “I’ll help with the camels, I’ll put up the tents, I’ll do anything if you just let me go hunting with you.” She stretched out her hand to the hooded falcons. Her favorite, Flyer, lifted his head alertly. “Please let me go.”
Her father looked calmly down at her, his brown eyes set deep above his arched nose. “No, Mariam, it is not suitable. Falcon hunting is for the brave and the strong, not for girls. Hamad will go, and you will stay. We leave within the hour. I want to move out ahead of the sandstorm.”
Mariam’s eyes filled with tears as she turned away from her beloved father. Her brother, Hamad, stepped in front of her, his head barely up to her chin, his hair ruffling in the breeze that snuck through the opening in the tent. “Mariam,” he whispered, “I will watch and remember. As soon as we come home, I will tell you
