Part 19

Thousands of questions filled Salih’s mind. Were they really so frightening? Was it their clothes? Or was it the darkness of the night making everyone suspicious?

Usuf’s patience had completely vanished. A strange, burning rage had gathered inside him. His beautiful face now bore a stern, unyielding expression. His eyes blazed with intensity—anyone could see he could no longer hold back.

Usuf grabbed the man by the chest of his shirt. The powerful fist of his hand crumpled the fabric. The fear in the man’s eyes deepened even further.

With a voice full of threat, Usuf demanded, “Where can we find a safe place to spend the night around here?”

The authority and strength in Usuf’s voice nearly froze the man’s heart. He trembled like a feverish patient, barely able to speak. Finally, he stammered, “If you go a little farther… there’s a resting place. Travellers spend the night there. Thieves and robbers also stay there.”

The words struck Usuf like a bolt from the sky. Compare them to thieves and robbers! The insult was unbearable.

Humiliated, Usuf lost control. His eyes went bloodshot, his nose flared with anger. His handsome face transformed into that of a warrior seeking vengeance.

He began to strike the man. His first punch hit the man’s cheek, sending him stumbling backward. Usuf followed with blows to the chest, back, and wherever his hands could reach.

The man’s screams shattered the quiet of the night. The donkey recoiled in fear. Salih stood frozen, watching his beloved friend engage in this violent act. Then, he ran forward to stop him.

Salih clenched his teeth and wrapped his entire strength around Usuf’s broad shoulders. Usuf’s perfectly built tall frame stood like a statue in the darkness, yet the fire of unrest burned clearly in his eyes.

“Brother, stop! Are you really going to kill him?” Salih shouted, holding on even tighter. If he let go for even a second, he feared a storm of bloodshed would erupt.

The moonlight fell sharply on Usuf’s strong jaw, making the fire of his anger burn even brighter.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, muscles stretched tight over his broad shoulders, veins bulging on his arms—everything about him spoke of a fury that was almost impossible to contain.

On the other hand, the village man, frail and drenched in sweat, trembled—not from the cold, but from fear. His donkey, burdened with heavy packs, snorted and panted, its nose flaring with exhaustion.

All around, the silence of the night was broken only by the sounds of shallow breaths and the distant call of an unseen owl.

In this battle of fear and anger, Salih gave every ounce of his strength and presence to a single task—stopping his friend. He held Usuf back with great effort, preventing him from striking the man.

At that moment, Usuf’s eyes burned like twin coals. Even with all his might, he could not break free from Salih’s grip. His breathing rumbled like a distant storm. Blood streaked the corner of his mouth, his teeth clenched and ground together. The night seemed to grow darker around them, the smell of earth mingling with the metallic taste of rage.

Suddenly, the man scrambled to his feet as if life had returned to him. Without looking back, he stumbled forward, holding onto the donkey, its heavy packs bouncing with each step, kicking up dust into the dark road. He ran, freed from the danger, taking the donkey with him.

As the sounds of his flight faded, silence returned. The moonlight reflected off the dusty road, faintly shimmering. A cold breeze blew through the gaps between distant trees, as if every old tree along the path had silently witnessed the events of that night.

Usuf’s chest still heaved, and Salih’s hands trembled from exhaustion. Their sharp, beautiful eyes now focused on the road ahead—a single goal, an unknown place where they might find shelter, or perhaps another danger awaiting them.

Then Salih and Usuf set off toward the resting place.

They mounted their horses—two black steeds that seemed to merge with the night itself. The sound of their hooves broke the quiet around them. Usuf’s broad shoulders were wrapped in a flowing cloak, lifted by the wind. Salih’s long hair streamed behind him.

Their faces held a strange mix of emotions—anger, disbelief, and a silent oath toward the unknown journey ahead.

Usuf’s anger had not subsided; his eyes burned with an unrelenting fire. To him, the city, the village, the people—everyone seemed like an enemy. Salih rode quietly beside him, yet a growing unease pressed on his mind. With each step, it felt as though someone was following them, silently, patiently, from within the shadows.

Then, suddenly, from the night sky, came the call of an owl—deep, heavy, impossibly close.

The dust of the road seemed to echo sharply, like the thud of hooves, but now there was no donkey nearby—only an unseen presence behind them. Its breath chilled the air slightly as it moved.

In the distance, a faint light appeared—perhaps the resting place—but it flickered, never steady, as though invisible fingers were playing with its flame.

A faint flash of lightning from afar lit the shadows for a moment, casting their bodies like statues of glory, as if these two young men were not merely travellers, but embarking on a secret chapter of history.