"Another war?" Father demanded. "And what's this nonsense about the Nadir?"

         Father had returned just in time for the carnage to come. Only days before the great coalition of tribes known as the confederates laid siege to Yathrib.

         "I told you, Ka'b," Dawood chided him wistfully. "I told you it was a foul idea inviting this foul man and his foul religion. Why did we need a false god to usher in peace? Have we forsaken our own faith so?"

          Dawood and Father were sitting at the center of our cramped shack, legs folded as they sipped juice and wolfed down the lamb my brother and I served them. Ezra flanked me to one side as we stood hovering over the feasting men in a show of respect. My mother made up my other side, blearily cradling Dawood's insufferable five-year-old. She was bawling into Mother's chest.

         "Perhaps," started my father before trailing off briefly. "Perhaps it is time to put an end to this."

          Father leaned in to speak into my uncle's ear conspiratorially. I strained to listen in to their conversation but could not make out the words. I felt Ezra tense at my side. Dawood only nodded in agreement, chewing all the while.

         I found myself yearning to be away from this damned shack for the thousandth time in my two-year exile. I was ten, but like my brother, I was of a powerful build, blessed with strong, tall legs that made me look older than my years. And I had the training to go with it. I was more than capable of holding my own in this siege, I knew. To redeem myself for the shame and weakness of Uhud.

         "We should fight," the words tumbled out of my mouth, unrestricted. "We should attack the Muslims from within. Take them by surprise!"

        My brother, uncle and father raised their heads, fixing their gazes of disdain at me. I don't think they even listened to a word I said. There was a brief pause before Father spoke.

        "It is wise for a fish to shut its mouth, lest it risk poaching," he pursed his lips in irritation and turned back to Dawood.

         "What if someone uses a net?"

        I immediately regretted speaking as Father's eyes flared and smashed his wooden bowl against the wall of the shack. Mother let out a high yelp as Father found his feet and strode toward me. I felt the rage demanding release as I glimpsed a sparkle of triumph in Dawood's eyes.

        Father raised an outstretched palm and smacked me across the cheek, sending me sprawling on the ground. My mother wailed, begging him to show mercy, but Dawood's words of encouragement drowned out her pleas. I felt blood well from my lips. I ground my teeth, shaking with fury.

        I wiped the blood away and found my feet. I stood defiant before Father.

        "I can do this all day," I braced myself for the inevitable repercussion.

        My father growled, his brow creasing.

        "Disrespectful little turd."

         And he raised his hand again.

        I clutched my bow close to chest as I spirited myself out of my family shack, tiptoeing carefully lest I be caught. My right hand was ready to snatch an arrow out of the quiver that hung on my back at any moment.

        The sound of crickets and the panting of stray dogs filled the night. It was a moment most tranquil and serene. For a moment, I was lost in peaceful thoughts.

        But then I jumped at the sound of arguing in the shack. I slunk to the shadows of our home, clinging to the wall. But the sounds died down minutes later. It had been my father's voice.

        The beating I had taken that morning was yet raw. My face was bruised and battered. His temper was fearsome; I knew that, yet I risked it. He thought it disrespect, but I beamed with pride at the display of fortitude and strength. I did not cry out nor did I beg for mercy.

         For once I did not shame myself with weakness.

        Never again, I thought, as I slid away from the shack and onto the street. I would make way to the northernmost edge of the city. Where the enemy lay encamped. Where I could earn glory and forge reputation.

       I had not taken three steps away before I heard the rumbling of a cart accompanied by the heavy footsteps of an ox. I retreated to the shadows once more, quickly nocking an arrow to my bowstring.

       The cart lurched and creaked forward, now in full view. It rumbled to a stop before our shack. There were two men – one passenger and the other tugging at the ox's reins. Both their faces were concealed by litham, which were scarves draped over face and neck.

       I felt a rush surge through me as one of the men hopped off the cart and strode toward our shack.

       They must be here to harry us out of the city, I thought. Bastards. Do they think us as meek as the Qaynuqa' and Nadir?

        With a roar, I darted out of the shadows and into the moonlight. I leapt at the intruder, kneeing him in the jaw. He was sent sprawling away, tumbling back-first at one of the cart's spokes.

        I drew my arrow all the way back to my ear, aiming it at the driver.

        "Hands in the air," I commanded him. "Hands in the air or this arrow finds its way through your heart."

         "Hanthalah!" the driver exclaimed. "It's me, Hanthalah!"

         I raised an eyebrow, lowering my sleek weapon. The driver removed the litham, blessedly revealing himself to be 'Amr.

        The man I had kneed was groggily propping himself up on an elbow a few feet away from me.

        "Arrghh," he moaned.

         I giggled and lent him a hand to help him up.

         "I had him," Mundhir chided 'Amr, cradling his jaw. "If you hadn't revealed yourself...Gah! I had him."

         "What are you doing here?" I moved to the cart. I saw that it was heavy with heaps of swords, shields, axes and spears.

        "We were entrusted to gather weapons from the Banu Qurayza," 'Amr explained. "It is part of the agreement. You must defend Madinah. If not with your arms, then with your weaponry."

         "And we were planning on taking you with us, you bastard!" Mundhir continued to cradle his jaw. "Why doesn't it stop hurting?"

         I punched him in the gut. He grunted, stooping over.

         "Probably doesn't hurt as much now," I patted him gently on the back, giggling all the while.

         'Amr hushed us, holding up a palm for silence. I followed his gaze.

         And I saw Ezra striding home, two cloaked figures in tow. One of them, a great boar of a man, removed the hood of his coat, revealing a hard, wrinkled face, a shaved head and two grey moustaches drooping to his chin. They were dyed red at the tips.

         The other man was Ka'b ibn al-Asad. He was a shaykh of the Banu Qurayza, the man that demanded blood tithe from the Muslims after I murdered Habib.

         Father and Dawood walked out of the doorway.

         "You must be Abu Sufyan," Father greeted the stranger. They clasped arms.

         Dawood walked forward and conversed with the others in a conspiratorial voice. I strained forward to listen. But all the words I could make out were, 'Quraysh', 'Qurayza', 'Attack' and 'Heretic'.

          "Isn't Abu Sufyan the – " Mundhir started before 'Amr hushed him sharply.

          But it was enough to attract attention. Ezra spun toward us, aware of our presence now. His one eye glared in our general direction. He darted our way, hand on the hilt of his sword. But he had grown lax and laborious, soft and fat. He was basically wading.

         'Amr whistled and Mundhir clambered up the cart. I raised my bow again, pointing it at the encroaching Ezra. I shook my head threateningly as he stopped in his tracks.

         My aim remained fixed on my glaring one-eyed brother as I clambered up the cart clumsily, never relinquishing my hold on the bow.

        "Get down," Ezra growled.

        "As soon as you wink, you ugly bastard!" Mundhir yelled back.

         The cart lurched back into motion, rumbling down the street. I was standing, aiming at Ezra from atop the cart all the while.

          His one-eyed gaze followed us,haunting and horrible. His empty socket a bottomless abyss that sought to suck my verysoul.