The cowards led by the devil-spawned Prince Arnat al-Kerak attacked my camp very early in the morning, when we were still asleep. We didn't even have the time to say our morning prayers before those cold-blooded murderers killed innocent people. Now, the sun is high in the sky and the heat is suffocating. I flee through the desert without any food nor water and Mika'il is injured. May Allah grant us his help!
My veils and draped clothes are a good protection against the sun, but my warrior isn't as fortunate: he has nothing to cover his head or to dress his wound. The horse we ride on is getting tired and if we don't find my brother's camp soon we are in for a long, terrible death.
Mika'il is holding his wound with his left hand and I can see blood sweeping slowly through his fingers, maculating his dark red shirt. This sight makes me shudder but, at the same time, it makes me take a decision: caution and reserve be damned, I rip a large piece of fabric from my veils and in a swift movement, I bandage Mika'il's wound with it.
My protector grunts in surprise, but when the soft fabric makes contact with his wound, he doesn't cry out or protest. He puts his blood-covered hand out of the way so I can wrap the length of veil once, twice around his torso before knotting it tightly. It must have hurt him and I regret to do so, but the bleeding has to stop!
Another ripped piece of fabric is transformed into a makeshift turban for Mika'il's head. Sunstrokes can be deadly, especially for the wounded and I want this man to live: he will know my gratitude, as well as my brother's!
Mika'il smiles at me and his bloodied fingers squeeze mines in a gentle gesture. Acting out of impulse, I slip a barley ear inside his hand: he looks at it, puzzled, yet he accepts it without asking questions. In spite of the pain, I can tell he is keeping his concentration to reach a single goal: taking me to safety. Even if we cannot understand each other, he understood I showed him a direction where we will both be safe. That coward Prince Arnat-al-Kerak wouldn't dare to attack my brother and the 200,000 warriors under his orders!
More time have passed… I guess I have fallen asleep. I glance at the sun and it has passed its zenith. Mika'il presses his horse once again and the beast courageously climbs up a huge dune, while I try to avoid looking at the sun reflecting in the sand to preserve my eyesight: many men turned blind after neglecting to protect their eyes in the desert. For the thousandth time, I pray this mountain-like dune will be the last one we have to climb before reaching Salah's camp. But whatever happens to us, it is God's will and I must obey Him. At least, I won't die alone and unprotected: I have a beautiful angel with me.
The horse finally reaches the top of the dune in a rough movement, shaking me out of my stupor. I glance over Mika'il's shoulder and, for an instant, I believe my eyes are troubled by a mirage: my brother's camp is displayed at the bottom of the dune! Joy and fear seize my heart, as I know I'd be crushed if this is only an illusion, but in the distance I can already hear the sounds of alarm coming from the sentinels, riding up to meet us.
We have succeeded! We have reached Salah's camp! We're saved!
I climb down the horse with enthusiasm and wave at the soldiers: as soon as they recognize me, they will warn my brother and we will be both tended to. I can't wait to tell Salah about my ordeal and the murder of our people! He will ask Jerusalem's king for a private audience and, with my testimony, there are no doubts De Châtillon's days will end in disgrace at the executioner's hands, in front of a very large audience.
I turn to Mika'il to express my joy, but a horrible sight greets my eyes: Mika'il, his skin as pale as the snow, sways over his saddle and, before I can do anything, he falls from his horse. His body hits the sand and my angel lies unmoving, as if both his wings have been broken.