At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.

Rummaging through my bag, I searched for that one white dress I brought with me in case I had to return home.

It was finally time!

Once I found it, I quickly pulled it out and laid it out. Digging right back into the bag, I searched for -

My eyes caught the sight of Hussain's sword in the corner and unintentionally my teeth bit my lips.

One minute I am standing in the abandoned house, getting my things together and the next I am standing in front of Aza's tent with the sword.

Knocking the hilt of the sword on the wood of his tent, it was the second time in the same night that we were going to see each other at the other's resting place.

My patience was starting to run thin when Aza did not come out. Grinding my teeth, I knocked the sword again.

Come out already!

"There is no one in there."

Turning around on my heel, a surprised yelp almost escapes my lips when my eyes find Aza standing with an axe in his hand and sweat trickling down his bare arms.

Was he finally going to murder me!? Come on Hoorain, you know he will not . . . Hopefully.

I nod my head in acknowledgment.

"What? Did you suddenly become mute again?" My eyes widened.

"Ye- I mean no." Aza pushed past me and inside his tent. I followed in as well.

His tent was neat but stuffy. How do I explain this? In one corner was a table with many daggers and pieces of wood. Opposite the table was his makeshift bed of straws. In that tiny space, both of us standing made the space seem too small for us.

And I thought the Amir would have somewhat spacious tent.

"If you are done assessing and analyzing this place, can we discuss what you are here for?" Aza had discarded the axe next to his table and now stood with his arms crossed.

His sleeveless tunic tucked in his lower garment only enhanced his muscular biceps and an involuntary gulp moved down my throat.

A single droplet of sweat slid down my spine and I blinked several times to rid myself of any . . . Thoughts.

"A brave swordsman died protecting the person he thought was his Amir. Hussain is shaheed and he left this sword for his Amir. I am here to give it to yo-"

"You keep it." My eyes widened and when I opened my mouth to speak, Aza started first,

"The Amir he saw worthy of his sword was you, not me." Aza turned around towards his table and sat down next to it, crossing his legs.

The words that were built on my tongue died, and I found no words against that statement.

Aza watched me, waiting for me to say something but when nothing came out of my mouth, he ended the conversation with, "If that is all, you can leave."

I watched Aza turn to the table, pick a dagger, and start sharpening it.

Nodding, I turn around and leave without saying another word.

::

The birds sing their tune just like they had been singing over the past few days. Just like they sang when bodies and blood marred the soil.

The sun was high up in its usual place, heating the land as always.

I was dressed in my loose white garment, the face covering long gone and stuffed somewhere under the dress. My weapons were also tied to my hip under my loose dress and a robe with hood was draped over my shoulders.

I intentionally messed up my hair, and tossed my shoes somewhere in the corner of the house, standing now barefoot.

The soldiers were starting to leave group by group and I took it as my chance.

Dropping myself on the ground a little distance away from the village, I fall into the act of damsel in distress.

"Is somebody there? Help! Someone help!" I cried out. The bottom of my white dress now had a tinge of brown, note to self, take a good shower when I get back. I definitely smell like a dog.

"Is someone there? Ya Allah! Help m-" my voice breaks into a sob.

Horse hooves come closer and a smile climbs into my face. Ducking my head down, I hide my face in my hands as I sob loudly.

The sounds of horses stopping by reached me. "It's a girl!"

"Wait here."

A man kneels in front of me and I raise my head, my eyes filled with tears and red from forceful sobbing.

A worried face of Khulaid comes in front of me and for a few moments, I am taken aback by the genuine worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Sniffing, I nod.

"I wa-s kidnapped. They left me here and th-then a war broke out, I do-" Another sob escapes me and I palm my mouth, trying to stifle it in.

"D-Dont cry! We will get you back. Do you know where you live?" Nodding softly, I wipe my eyes.

"Come." Khulaid stands up first, "Get that horse here." Khulaid says to one of the men in his group.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" Khulaid questions again and I nod.

I did not know that this man was such a softie!

Khulaid helps me get on the horse and then mounts his own as well.

"Thank you." Mumbling softly, Khulaid nods. the man had various wounds on his face and arms, quite a lot of them.

Khulaid was an exceptional fighter and it was no surprise that he had survived the war.

"She reminds me of that churail we saw back at the camp. The one that was singing."

"You are right! I was wondering why she seemed so familiar." My head snapped to the men riding behind me and verily, it was the two men who had walked in on me singing in this very white dress.

"I know I look dirty and smell bad, but do not call me a churail." A tear slides down my eye and my bottom lip wobbles.

"No No! It's not that! We are sorry. Wallahi we did not mean to hurt you."

"It is okay."

Being the youngest in the family taught me some tricks.

Short, yes I am aware but man! I like this!

TeamAza or Teamkhulaid?