She looked like a fancy girl, no older than her second decade, the boy thought. A cap protected her from the intense heat of the day, and her flushed cheeks hinted at a shyness that captivated him. Her nose was beautifully hooked, and he had never seen a girl so beautiful. Her eyes reminded him of the pearls he had once seen in the sea, changing color as they were exposed to the sun and then hidden from it. She looked Arab, like the ones he had seen in Egypt, but her skin was fair, the kind of whiteness that seemed impervious to the sun's rays.
She stood before him without saying a word, her eyes never meeting his, until he thought she might remain silent forever. Then, as if reading his mind, she spoke.
"Are you going to the kingdom?" Her voice was angelic, youthful, almost like a child's.
"Yes, I'm going with the caravan," the boy replied, thinking she might be one of the women from the temple who knew the caravan travelers. Only the temple's inhabitants could recognize strangers like him.
"I have a favor to ask," the girl said, her cheeks growing even redder. She paused, then continued, "I've sent many letters with every caravan that passes by. I've been sending them for two years, but I've never received a response. I began to think my letters never reached their destination. I've been looking for another way to send them, but the caravans are all I could find." She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can you take this letter to its destination? I can pay you." She opened her hand to show a few coins—barely enough to buy a day's food.
The boy could sense the purity in her, and after some time, they began talking more. He learned that she had lived in the temple since birth with her mother. Most of her letters were addressed to her father, who had left for the Kingdom three years ago to work. He had written to them for the first year, telling them about his work and the beauty of the Kingdom by the sea, and he sent money that lasted them a few months. But then the letters stopped, and with them, the support they had relied on. Her mother had to work, but soon fell ill, so the girl took over her duties. She waited for the caravans, hoping for news from her father, though she never received a reply.
The boy also told her about himself—about his trip to Egypt, the pyramids, and how massive they were. He described the Kingdom with awe, speaking of the grandeur of its cities, buildings, and luxurious palaces. She was fascinated by his stories.
"Living in cities must be wonderful," she said. "The big buildings, luxurious palaces, roads and streets…"
Their conversation lasted for hours, and the boy felt as though time itself had stopped. Her voice seemed to carry a breeze that cooled the heat of the day. He felt as though the wind itself was blowing wherever she was. Then, snapping out of his trance, he noticed the sun was setting.
He took the letter from her and wrote down the address of her father, apologizing for not accepting the coins she offered. "It's very easy. I'll deliver this letter to your father and ask him to write to you as well."
Her smile, one he hadn't seen since they first spoke, was radiant. It lit up her face, and he felt as though she might fly with joy. She thanked him repeatedly, telling him she would never forget his kindness. Moments later, she turned to leave, and so did he. Neither of them knew the other's name.