The younger man’s neck was flushed with anger. He turned, walked towards the door.

‘And one more thing,’ said the Lieutenant Colonel. Owens paused, did not turn around. ‘Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.’

15

Chwedl ♦ Myth ♦ Khurafa

HAMZA SLEPT FOR A day and a half. Nefyn had done nothing but tend the fire and watch over him. The bruising on his side was yellowing. His breathing was growing a little more even, deeper, as if the pain from his ribs was no longer catching as he inhaled. He had slept silently, this time. So much so that she had gone to him and pressed her hand on his chest to check his breathing every now and then. When he woke, she had re-warmed some mutton stew for him, guided him to the kitchen table. She observed him as he moved, noticed that the pain wasn’t touching his face as much.

The rest had strengthened him and he had started to think about how he could leave here, his mind opening up painfully to the possibility of life. But whenever he tried to envisage it, his thoughts would cloud with fatigue. He was only five miles from the military base, and they would be looking for him. If he left here, he’d be caught. There was no phone. When he had first been captured, he had fantasized about what he would do if he managed to get away, but he could not have envisioned this. He had some family in France. They could help him, perhaps. They could contact his brother, if he was alive. The logistics he would have to work out, but he was troubled, too, about relying more on Nefyn. He watched as she made more tea, poured fresh water into the kettle. Her eyes alighting on the row of white tablets on the windowsill. His eyes followed hers uneasily.

‘I’m worried I have been taking your medication.’ Nefyn looked back at him. Said nothing. ‘Those pills, they are for you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t want you to get sick.’

Nefyn smiled. ‘I won’t.’

Hamza shifted his weight carefully, his brow furrowing.

‘But the doctor gave them to you?’

‘My brother gives them to me,’ she said. Hamza studied her as she took down two cups.

‘But they’re for pain? Yes? What happens if you don’t take them?’

Nefyn thought for a moment. Put the cups on the table. ‘I … I feel things …’ Hamza smiled. She shrugged.

‘What kind of things?’

‘I feel more of things … the things that other people feel.’

‘But maybe that’s good?’

Nefyn shook her head. ‘I think it frightens him sometimes.’ Her eyes were darkening now.

‘And what about you?’ he asked.

‘It frightens me when I can’t feel anything.’

Hamza felt a heaviness in his stomach.

‘He doesn’t want me to hurt,’ said Nefyn again.

‘I understand.’

‘It’s not his fault.’