The time for their impending departure was approaching. They had spent the previous nine days in packing their belongings and breaking down tented houses. Each time a house fell, Shah Zaman's heart broke a little more. His beloved village, his home, his legacy had fallen to that bastard Sikandar Khan. He had won . . . just as he said he would.

Another two caravans set off from the valley - the penultimate ones to leave. Shah Zaman knew the risk of moving from the valley as a whole so he had arranged for people to leave in small chunks. Luckily for them, a tribe on good terms with theirs had offered them refuge until they managed to buy another piece of land to resettle. Shah Zaman knew that buying land wouldn't be an issue - that spawn of the devil, Asadullah had sent a man with multiple briefcases of cash. A day later, one hundred war horses and ponies, plus healthy, fat sheep had arrived on their land. Shah Zaman and the rest of the villagers had seethed in anger at the sight of the animals. No matter how good they looked, they could never be a good trade for what they were giving up.

Shahrazad rushed over, her small face red with exercise. "Baba! Why are we the last ones to leave? I want to go already!"

Shah Zaman glared furiously. "Stupid girl! You are so eager to leave your home, is that it?"

"No! No . . . well, I . . ." She blushed furiously. Her father did not know about her secret desires to leave the valley and see the world beyond. She doubted her new home would be any different from this place, but still she couldn't help, but feel a great excitement in her heart. This had been her ultimate dream - to leave the Forbidden Valley and explore!

Shah Zaman luckily did not prod. "Have you convinced Nazli?"

The girl shook her head gravely. "No. Baba, Nazli has every right to refuse! She does not love Hamza and-!"

"Love!" The leader of the tribe scoffed disgusted. "Love is a luxury our people cannot afford! Certainly not Nazli! You and I may believe her tale of being untouched, but the rest of the village does not! She has no reason to refuse Hamza and I will certainly not accept her refusal. She will marry him. Make my words clear to her."

And before Shahrazad could open her mouth to protest, Shah Zaman was stomping away angrily. But just before he entered into his tent for perhaps, the final time, thunder rolled far off in the sky. The wind howled unusually and far off in the distance an eagle went crying. His heart sank with dread - knowing that nature had never lied to him before. Today, again nature was warning him . . . of an impending doom.

***

Entry 1:

Shahrazad said I should keep a diary . . . to better express my feelings. I am not sure how it works, but I promised her I would try.

Nightmares have become more frequent now. Before they were of my mother and father, but ever since that incident, there is only one that repeats itself over and over again.

I see him.The monster. Asadullah. He appears from beyond the valley . . . with a lot of men. His eyes are murderous with blood and he looks nothing less than the grim reaper himself. We, the villagers are helpless against him as he rips open everyone's chests. I see Shahrazad struggling to fight - a battle she cannot win.

Hamza stands firm in the face of danger - ever ready to be the shaheed (martyr) that he always fantasized about.

Baba Zaman makes many offers - all of them rejected before he too decides that fighting is inevitable. They all fight . . . but for what?

Before I can find out, my nightmare ends and I awaken . . .

***

Entry 2:

Shahrazad said our new home is near a local university. Her excitement can barely be contained, but she has tried her best to not show eagerness to leave the valley.

Would it be bad for me to admit that I too am desperate to leave this place? Maybe . . . maybe I could move on from what happened to Baba and Mama. Maybe my new nightmares will stop too. And maybe then I could speak again. Laugh again. Sing . . . maybe?

***

Entry 3:

One more day and we will be on the road. Hamza hasn't spoken to me or made any attempt to cross paths with me after I sent him the letter.

Will he ever forgive me? Did I have any right to refuse?

I still don't regret my decision. I couldn't marry him - why should he tie himself down to save my honor? He deserves more . . . far more than what I could ever offer.

***

Entry 4:

Shahrazad says Baba Zaman is angry with me. That I do not have the right to refuse Hamza's proposal.

Rights?

I lost them years ago - when the entire village slandered my dead mother and father. I never had rights, yet just for once . . . I wanted to use the last remaining conviction in my heart to say no.

Now it seems . . . I have lost this right too. To choose whether I wished to marry someone or not.

My only hopes are with Hamza now. I pray better sense prevails and he refuses. In sha Allah.

***

Nazli sighed sadly, shutting the leather back book and reentering her world of silence. Above her birds chirped happily, flying from one tree to another. She watched them for a few seconds until her eyes blurred with involuntary tears. How pathetic she was . . . to sit and be envious of creatures that were completely innocent of her envy.

She opened her mouth to form a word. Bismillah. Her jaw tightened with pain as she struggled to make her tongue obey. And after a few moments, she realized she had failed again - dry wheezing the only sound she could ever produce. Maybe she should resign to her fate - to accept that she would forever be a mute.

An apple falling on her head reminded her suddenly of the current task she was due to do. Before leaving, they had all been given a task of arranging for a present to give to the tribesmen who were hosting them. Shahrazad had headed off to make a flower bouquet and pick some medicinal herbs and Nazli had decided to collect the fresh fruits that Allah had blessed their valley with.

So far she had collected lemons, oranges, blueberries and now finally she was going to pick some fresh apples. If she had time later, maybe she could make some murabba (jam) out of it. But for now she needed to hurry and climb this huge tree and stock up before evening set in.

And for the next hour, Nazli continued diligently with her task at hand. She picked the slightly ripened apples - chucking them with perfect aim in the baskets below. Each time an apple landed, she would hear a soft thud indicating that it had ended up exactly where she wanted it to be.

Until suddenly, she did not hear a thud. Pausing with suspicion, she wanted to turn around on the thin branch precariously, but decided that it probably fell outside the basket. By Allah, she had become so paranoid . . .

"I think that's enough for the wedding feast."

A shriek ripped from her throat involuntarily and she had only her quick reflexes to thank that saved her from landing on her butt. She hugged the bark of the tree, her heart abnormally fast. A Jinni? It had to be - she was so stupid for climbing a tree! Baba Zaman always told her and Shahrazad that girls shouldn't even wander near trees and here she was climbing them!

The voice did not speak again and she closed her eyes tightly, the Ayat-ul-Kursi (The Throne Verse) silently escaping her lips. Oh Allah, save me! I won't climb trees and disturb your other creations again!

For a few moments, there was only silence allowing Nazli to get bearings of her surroundings and heart. Subhanallah! (Praise be to Allah)! The Jinni had gone and Allah had protected her. Thank Allah, she chanted repeatedly as she slowly moved to climb down. She would head straight home - five baskets of fruits were a handsome present. Besides, she didn't want to linger around any longer - maybe the Jinni was angry that she had stolen its fruits.

But a sight worse than any Jinn in the world greeted her. The monster from her nightmare had come true. Here he was sitting in all his murderous glory staring at her as he twirled a gun around his index finger. Oh God. Oh God. He was here.

"Don't even think about it." He muttered, casually picking out some blueberries and chucking them in his mouth. Think about what? Her mind had gone blank and she was barely hanging on to the last remaining bits of her consciousness. Oh Allah, she didn't want to faint again. Not here . . . in this place with just him.

"Sit down before you pass out." She jumped at the authority and the accuracy of his statement. Was she that obvious? Is this why everyone who came across her always ended up making a fool out of her?

But her legs only moved when he stopped spinning that scary weapon on his finger and instead placed it on his outstretched thigh. The muzzle of it directly pointed at her - a warning that finally made her sit opposite him - her back against the tree.

He smirked, a slight upturn of the lips before it flattened into a cold monotonous expression. Nazli removed her eyes from his face - looking anywhere but at him. Maybe if she pretended that he wasn't here, she would wake up from this nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

"Looks like your nightmare has come to life." He casually flicked through the sparse entries of her diary making her blood freeze. "But I think the description is a little off. Monster . . . murderous eyes . . . grim reaper. No one has ever described me this way."

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why did you have to bring your diary with you? Why didn't you leave it under your pillow as Shahrazad had said so! Maybe this was the excuse he finally needed to kill her. Maybe she wouldn't have to worry about her marriage with Hamza after all.

"But I like it." Her green eyes snapped up to his intense ones with shock. Was he truly that twisted that he even enjoyed his own character assassination? Nazli barely caught any other expression in his eyes before she dropped them to the space between them again. And what was this about? Why was he looking at her in such a way? She fought back a shiver that crept up her spine as his heated gaze roamed over her.

"Who is this . . . Hamza?" The question hung in the air forcefully as if an elephant had landed in the tight space between them. Why was he even asking her questions when he clearly knew she was a mute?

"Maybe the true monster from your nightmares is not me, but Shah Zaman himself."

Furious green eyes glared at him hatefully. He met her hateful stare with a bored expression, picking up the gun and twirling it again. For a few moments the battle of staring each other down ensued until indecision forced Nazli to give up. What the hell was she doing? Challenging a man! Not to mention a man, no a monster with a weapon.

"I am only saying what you long to say, Nazli." He said her name so softly, yet with enough passion that she felt discomfort roll over her. What on Earth was he saying? What the hell did he want from her?

She grabbed a stick and with the last remaining courage penned down the question in Urdu.

"You." He said simply, but with a powerful promise underlying in his deep baritone voice. Nazli reeled back - as if he had physically reached out and slapped her. Her head hit smack on the wood behind her, but she barely registered anything except the greedy look in his eye. He . . . couldn't be serious, right?

"Your sarbarah (leader) said that your honor can never be returned." Another one of the blueberries disappeared in his mouth, his black eyes never straying from her. "Since I am an honorable man, I am here to take responsibility."

She was choking. No! No! Baba Zaman could not . . . he would never throw her in the cage of the lion like that! This was a lie - Baba Zaman would never sacrifice her to him! He was a liar! A filthy monstrous liar!

Asadullah shrugged at the horrified look on her pinched face. "Not my fault your Baba Zaman . . ." He said the two words with a gut-wrenching sarcasm. " . . . doesn't trust your word. Blame him, not me."

Pity and an unknown emotion rose in his heart, but something more startling was the indecision. The broken expressions that flickered in her forest eyes almost made him stand up and disappear again from her life for good. But perhaps he was too selfish . . .

Perhaps, his mother's death had not restored his humanity, but in fact completely deprived him of it. Now, he wanted anything that his heart desired - no limits, no hesitations. And his heart desired her. A mystery that was his to solve. And perhaps over time, maybe when his heart had grown wary of her, he would set her free. But the thought of doing that as of now choked him. He couldn't walk away . . . yet.

"But I am not unkind." He flicked open the barrel of the Colt handgun and she jumped at the sound. "I like to do things the right way, you see. This home of yours . . ." His angular nose scrunched up as he surveyed the green land with disgust underlining his eyes. ". . . could be yours again. I have no more need of this place. Your people can stay and live their simple lives."

A brightness kindled in her wet eyes at his statement. He arched a perfect brow in surprise - really? Did this girl think he was going to hand over the land for free? Did she not see that she was going to be the trade?

"In exchange, you and I get married." The words slammed on her like a thousand bricks. The enormity of his offer sunk her even further. She was to become a sacrificial goat. And if Baba Zaman had truly tried to get rid of her, he would no doubt accept his offer in a heartbeat. Oh Allah, she would beg Baba Zaman to kill her with his own hands before he sent her away with him. She would . . . get married to any man. Old, young, bereaved, divorced or even Hamza himself! But she couldn't - she would never get married to him!

"You should be honored that a man like I have taken such an interest in you!" Asadullah smirked, swirling his small handgun on his index finger. The green-eyed girl paled - her skin already porcelain white and quite different from any other he had seen in the country before. She was definitely beautiful even in her less than impressive rags.

"Asadullah hardly makes such a generous offer." He said, liking the self-praise more than he wanted to admit. She shook her head - her dainty fingers wringing in her golden braid. Little Goldilocks. "Think again, little girl. The blood of your people will be on your hands."

But she wasted no more time in refusing him. Instead, she bolted around the tree and disappeared in the foliage towards the few remaining pieces that was left of their village. Asadullah finally allowed the low chuckle to escape his throat and then reached for the delicious blueberries for the tenth time.

Run wherever you want. Your Baba Zaman cannot save you. Your Shahrazad cannot save you. No one can save you.

The chase had begun.