“Do you still remember how to ride?” Youssef teased, gesturing at a jumble of double-poled saddles off to the side.

“Well enough,” the Scorpion smiled. “After all, I don’t have to win. I only have to be at the right place at the right time.”

“If you don’t fall off as you used to,” Youssef laughed. The Scorpion could feel Youssef dying to race and felt the challenge rise up inside himself too.

“A race?” he suggested.

“To Wadi Hunnay,” Youssef agreed, springing at the pile of saddles. Grabbing one, he ran over to Jiddha, his favorite riding camel, to prepare her for riding.

The Scorpion yanked sharply down on Basbusa’s headrope, calling a guttural “Gehrrr, gehrr” from deep in his throat. The she-camel dropped to her knees, then swayed backwards. She folded her hind legs beneath her till her hocks were resting comfortably on the cool sand. Then she slid her front knees forward till her chest touched the ground.

Immediately, the Scorpion threw a riding pad over her hump, then fitted the wooden saddle on the pad and began tightening the cinches across her withers and girth. As soon as she was saddled, he pulled her head down, put a foot on her neck and felt himself sailing upwards as she raised her head. He swung himself into the saddle and yanked her head sharply upwards to make her rise. She lifted her hindquarters first, tilting him precariously forward, then with a sudden jerk, she was up.

The Scorpion looked around. Youssef was already well away. His dark form receded in the pale light, the whisper of the galloping camel’s strides fading into the sand. The Scorpion called “Hat-at-at” and touching Basbusa’s neck with the whip, kicked her into a slow run.

Her stride was very long and at first jerky, as if she were bucking underneath him. He let her get used to his weight, swaying easily to her sudden movement. Then, balancing on the balls of his feet like a gymnast, he struck her smartly with the whip and crooned from deep in his throat, spurring her into a full gallop.

Now she stepped out, lengthening her giant strides and stretching her long neck forward as they chased after Youssef. The dark sands sped by underfoot. The wind pressed against him, sending his headcloth and bisht streaming behind him like banners. The only sounds were the camel’s breathing and the soft padding of its steps on the firm sand. The desert was flat as a table and stars filled the sky above the horizon, giving him the feeling of racing among the stars.

Ahead was Youssef, rocking eagerly with every stride, his robes and tassels flying, his camel galloping in a high-stepped ground-eating stride, at once clumsy and yet oddly graceful. Youssef glanced back over his shoulder and seeing the Scorpion gaining, he waved gaily, then spurred on his camel with the whip.