Chapter 2
Maya's father, Sayyid, was a hard working, honest man. A strict father and a dedicated husband. He wasn't unkind but he was fairly hardened and he rarely gave to others; he always wanted to make sure he provided for his family and himself first. Adira was his wife, and she was the only one he answered to. He adored her; he was completely in love. They were never forced to marry each other; a thing their parents never believed in. They did not believe Allah wanted to force love upon them, and it was what they gave Maya. Yet Sayyid could not help but worry for his daughter. Where Adira and Sayyid had met each other at 15, Maya was now 20 and still brought no interest back to meet her parents. One time she had brought a man over, one that Sayyid would actually approve of; even if the man was one armed. Malik, had been his name. But Maya had waved her father's thoughts away quickly; Malik was already married, he was only here for business purposes.
They still met Malik frequently and their friends started to ask him if Maya was going to marry the man but he constantly had to say no. They had grown good friends, Maya had told him, but that was it.
He loved his daughter though and her character, her lively spirit. She saw no danger though and this worried Sayyid endlessly. And this was once again confirmed as Adira and Sayyid stood in front of the door of Maya's bedroom. A big frown plastered on his face as he looked at the half naked man who was wearing his comfortable trousers. He placed a hand on his chin, his fingers running down his mustache and beard as he was deep in thought. He would've wanted to burst out in anger, but he had promised his dear Adira not to get angry. Adira was wise, intelligent, and he willingly obeyed her. Listening to the discussion his wife and his daughter were having he watched as the man didn't respond, he was unconscious still, laying on his back. And for some reason Sayyid noticed the plenty scars that were covering his chest and one on his lip; there was something about him. But he couldn't lay his finger on it.
"But mother, we can't just drop him out on the street and let him die!" Maya protected her position in this and her mother sighed deeply running a hand through her hair she had just previously released in the comfort of her own family. "You're right on that. But we don't know who he is" Adira spoke softly, biting her lip and looking at the body on top her daughters bed. Maya had been honest from the start, already reaching her mother the moment she walked through the door; though she had hidden the weaponry he had been carrying, she had hid them quickly in various places. Otherwise her father would most likely throw him out the moment he had seen him.
"But be careful around him! We all should be. And don't you dare to bring in any more injured, strange men!" her mother warned her. Maya sighed in relieve, her eyes traveling towards the unwelcomed guest who was still sweating heavily. It took her awhile to convince her parents, but as soon as she had talked her mother into it, she went to business. "Alright, Maya, get clean cloth, I need to see how you stitched this, and Sayyid, could you please start boil some water and get some medicine from the doctor? Just get to his house and explain him the situation" Maya was proud of her mother than, as she started to undo the bandages that she had wrapped carefully around the man's torso. Of course all three knew that there was something about him; why else would he have denied the help of a doctor when Maya had offered one. But for now it did not matter. This stranger needed help.

Maya watched as her mother put the salve on top of the wound carefully, her fingers brushing softly over the angry skin. Her mother had complimented her on her work; the sewing she had taught her daughter had paid off well and she smiled proudly at Maya who hung over her. "It's mildly infected and his body lost a lot of blood, this must tire him out completely. We need to get rid of the fever first; perhaps it is a good thing he is asleep, this way he's not feeling the pain." Maya nodded her head assuming her wise mother was right and drinking in her information, wanting to learn. She wrapped the wound back up with delicate hands while her mother took the medicine from her father's hand, and prepared it on the small table where Maya kept different kind of oils and hair clips. She then turned towards the injured man and stepped towards him, Maya helping to keep his head up a bit so he would not choke on the substance as she poured in his mouth. Automatic reflexes made he swallowed it and her mother smiled satisfied. "Get some clean sheets, Maya, he's probably cold" she whispered as if not wanting to disturb him, placing a hand on his forehead. Maya ran for the closet in the other room, grabbing two sheets from the pile and ran back towards her mother as they both softly placed the sheets on top of him, pushing the fabric tightly around him.

As her parents left down stairs, her mother to cook dinner and her father to join her as he always did. He would usually want to help her but she would refuse, and then he would sit at the dining table on one of the cushions, converting and smoking his pipe.
She sat down at the edge of the bed and wondering what to do next. Was she supposed to leave him alone, leave him rest? But what if something happened while she was away. It would be a shame if he died now. He shivered and she dapped a damp cloth along the handsome face structure. He was not a sore to the eye; one could easily see. Though she wondered why he usually hid it by his hood and why he had been so vague all together; he could have said something, his name, anything. Perhaps he couldn't speak. she had seen those before.
He shivered again and she could almost hear his jaws clatter. She had a fever once, not because of an infected injury though; but the fever had made her feel absolutely worthless, she had been so terribly sick. A fever like the one he had to fight off was much harder and she could only assume how painful this must be. She took his big hand in hers and softly rubbed the top hoping it would comfort him somehow. She noted his hands were rough, the skin on his fingers was thickened and she assumed he must be doing something that had been rough on his hands before. He was in good condition, his arms and chest only existed out of muscle and she assumed his legs would be like this as well. Adira had said that this was of good news for his chances of recovering.
He must be having a hard job daily; perhaps he was a spy or maybe a good soldier. At least he did something with weapons which meant he was hired to either kill or defend. She suddenly looked back at his hand as she noted the gap she had not seen before. Maybe because she had been too busy then and she probably had not cared. She looked at his hand and frowned at the missing ring finger. How did this happen? She wondered and ran her index finger over the scar, feeling the bone closely beneath the skin. The only person she knew without a limp was her dear friend Malik, who owned a shop nearby. Her friend Aisha knew more, ever since she moved to the poor district a few weeks ago after her parents couldn't afford it anymore to live in the middle district, due to her father's excessive gambling. She said in the poor district, many missed arms and legs. Maya constantly felt sorry for those, and she would often give money to Aisha to buy food for her family.
Maya allowed her thoughts to drift, while she was softly caressing the skin on the man's hand, hoping and praying that he would make it through the night.