The driver sped up. Thick-kneed birds straggling over the slope of a hill scattered away. Saba looked at the sky above the birds’ spotted wings. The sunset gathered intensity and traces of fading amber clouds blotched the horizon.

Saba searched for company in the side mirror. Dozens of lorries had set off at dawn from the city in which they had arrived while fleeing the war. Yet their lorry alone was on the road now. Her mother, sitting next to Saba, prayed. The same prayer she had been repeating since they had left home. Her brother, Hagos, sat at the back of the lorry, among the few belongings with which they had escaped.

My Lord, please brighten our way to safety.

Night fell over the sloping valley. The headlights of the lorry descending downhill dissolved the darkness. A flat surface dotted with huts glowed. But aren’t refugee camps built with tents? Saba thought.

She was worried that if she blinked everything would be erased again. That the vastness of the journey that started on camels many days ago would return. Saba held on to the dashboard and focused on the image in front of her. But as Tahir swerved to avoid another pothole, the lorry hit a bump. The jolt threw the driver back into his seat and Saba grabbed the steering wheel. When it came down on the road, the vehicle jerked, and its light beams shifted from the cluster of huts to shrubland, and back again. Tahir braked.

We have arrived, Tahir said, fixing his turban. Saba, this is your camp.

Saba held her nose.

Dung.

Dung everywhere.

Tahir turned off the engine. The silence made the place feel more remote and deserted than she’d ever imagined. She looked up. There were no fighter planes, only a half moon that hung in the sky like the gold crescent ring her grandmother wore in her nose.

Saba examined the hut in front, which was illuminated by the lorry’s lights. Her mother mumbled prayers and cried. Saba couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her mother smiling or heard her laugh.

Tahir climbed down from the cabin and limped to the front of his lorry. As he opened the bonnet, smoke billowed out. Saba stepped out into the darkness. They were the first in the camp, she thought. There was no one else, not even an official to receive them. Saba wanted to ask Tahir about this when a flash of light from behind distracted her. She looked at the back of the lorry, where Hagos sat on jute sacks. His torch lit up a round hand-mirror which he was peering into, studying his face from every angle.

When Saba had wanted to pack her books, her mother refused. The smugglers demanded money for every extra bag, so while she managed to wear clothes in many layers, including underwear, she couldn’t do the same with the books. So Saba stayed up days and nights before their departure, memorizing her favourite passages from the books she would leave behind.