She savored these last moments of happiness, of companionship, knowing they wouldn’t last. The sun’s rays trickled through the gap in their makeshift fortifications, lighting the small space. Murad’s leg coverings were folded neatly in a corner, having been cleaned in the stream and dried in the heat. His boots, polished as best as she could manage using blades of grass, were lined up next to hers. Her gaze rested on the fastening tool, the metal reflecting the light. None of my hard work will make up for what I’ve done. She sighed, history having taught her what would happen next. I’ll be punished and returned. Murad stirred under her, mumbling words in a language she didn’t understand, and panic swept through Gale. I could hide the tool, pretend it was lost in the explosion. He’d never know. She hesitated, unwilling to lie to him, as lies had never solved any problems in the past. The substitute parents had always found out the truth. “Gerel,” Murad murmured. He gently grazed her cheek with his scarred knuckles, his coarse touch sending tremors down her neck.
