Anna returned to camp carrying a full armload of wood. The stacked branches hid her eyes as she walked cautiously toward the fire. On her way, she failed to notice the rock that Peter had laid out and her toe caught its edge. She fell forward with a lurch. The branches flew from her arms and scattered noisily across the ground. Anna saw Solomon jump at the racket and her ears began to ring.

Now they know. They know I am a useless girl and they will kill me.

Solomon rushed upon her like a wave. She lifted her hands in front of her face. Ready for the blow. But it never came. She peered between her fingers and saw Solomon smiling down at her, his gray eyes twinkling.

“You are brave to carry more than you can manage,” he said, patting her on the back. “Today was a long journey. I am proud of how well you did.”

The ringing in Anna’s ears diminished. Her face flushed.

He was proud? Of me? Her mind swam in circles.

The fire’s warmth attracted the men. They sat cross-legged around the flames awaiting their evening meal. Some of them mended sandals. Some mumbled prayers. Others passed a long-spouted samovar. It was the first time Anna had gotten a good look at them. Akbar, with his long, frizzled beard and brown, worn-down teeth, was by far the oldest. Then there was his son, Rahim, quiet, his eyes always on the horizon. The fair-skinned Simon, with his faded red eye patch, who appeared only briefly to retrieve his meal before returning to his watch. Mathias with his crooked nose and gold earrings. And Judas, lithe and strong, but seeming ever distant and preoccupied.

Some of the men, like Akbar, wore turbans. Others wore keffiyehs. But no one was bareheaded.

Peter laid two large platters on either side of the fire. Each was dotted with small heaps of figs, grapes, goat’s cheese, and an oily spread of mashed olives and lentils. Tongues of flatbread lay on top. It was, Anna would later learn, a generous meal.

The men scooped their fingers into the delights and fed their hungry mouths. Emboldened by her disguise, Anna tore off a piece of bread for herself. While they ate, the men conversed in several languages, some of which she did not recognize. Judas, Solomon, and Peter spoke in her own rough, guttural tongue, while Akbar and Rahim spoke with creamier tones that rolled, edgeless, across their lips. Simon and Mathias communicated in whispers using a hurried language that sounded urgent, even when they smiled. Despite the differences, Anna noticed that they could all speak or understand enough of one another’s languages to communicate.

After the meal, the men leaned back and passed a curved pipe, slender as a bird’s bill. Anna was relieved by the heavy, sweet-smelling smoke as it covered the less pleasant odors of sweat and breath.