Basbusa had a tendency to veer left, the Scorpion noticed. He shortened the right rein to compensate. Also she had a tendency to prance her hindquarters a bit and he made a note to check her udders when he dismounted. He whispered endearment to her and like the finest-bred mugathirs she responded even better than to the whip, stretching out her neck and lengthening her stride by extra precious centimeters.

Youssef was only thirty meters ahead. Both riders flew across the pearly sands. The ground was firm and flat and it felt as if they could race like this forever. Far ahead the Scorpion could see faint wavy undulations in the sand, the first intimations of the distant boundaries of the wadi. Youssef’s arm was like a piston, flailing his camel with his whip as Basbusa drew closer. Now Youssef was only twenty meters ahead.

Softly cursing Basbusa with mange and a thousand other plagues as though they were endearments, the Scorpion decided to risk it all. With his last curse, he let go of the reins and balancing like a dancer, let her run free, guided only by the pressure of his feet.

She drew up to the other camel’s flanks. Now they galloped for what seemed like eons, matching each other stride for stride. Yet because of the extraordinary length of her stride, Basbusa began to inch up until the two camels were even. White slime caked the two camels’ mouths and Jiddha began to show signs of fatigue, almost breaking stride as Basbusa surged ahead.

As the Scorpion approached the scrub which marked the beginning of the wadi exhilaration surged through him like electricity. He could feel his skin tingling. It was one of those magic moments which shine like shooting stars across the drab years and as he began to rein in the camel, he felt so overwhelmed for love of this harsh unforgiving land that he wondered why he had ever left.

As Basbusa slowed to a stately walk Youssef came bouncing alongside, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not bad for an old man, ya,” he said.

“Old and out of shape,” the Scorpion replied, catching his breath.

“I meant myself.”

“So did I,” the Scorpion grinned.

They turned the she-camels around and began to walk them back, letting them cool off. A faint mist of cooling perspiration rose from the camels’ hides. For a time, nothing was said.

“Why did you leave us? I never understood that,” Youssef asked at last, not looking at the Scorpion in order not to embarrass him.

“I didn’t fit any more. Oh, I could look like a Bedu and do everything a Bedu can do. But I wasn’t a Bedu.”

“We loved you. When you left, my father never said a word of reproach, but I know he mourned as if he had lost a son.”