Disclaimer: I own nothing... except for Alya, Miriam, Joash, and any random people that aren't from the Mummy.

The harsh desert sun beat down on the cloth covered head of a young woman who was moving swiftly through the camp. A few heads turned towards her, as she hurried through the center of the tents on her way to her family compound. It was unusual for anyone to be hurrying in the midday heat; most people rested inside their tents, or were working inside. A hot wind blew sand particles through the air, and into her face, and she reached up with her free hand to move a piece of cloth from her head covering around her nose and mouth. She rounded the final corner and reached her family's tent, sighing, she entered the tent flap, getting out of the glare of the midday sun.

The tent was cool and dim compared to the outside heat, as well as being large and comfortable. In this main room, there were colorful rugs over the desert floor, and large pillows grouped together around small low to the ground tables. On the wooden poles that held the tent cloth up there were polished brass lamps to be lit at night when the family stayed inside the tent.

"Alya?"

"Yes, mama?" Alya pulled her head covering off, shook the sand out of it, and untied the leather strip that bound her dark curls into a braid. Running her slender fingers through her hair, she shook the sand out of the mass of hair that fell to her waist, as her mother entered the main area of the tent.

"What did Zillah say, my child?" Her mother walked over to her daughter as she spoke, and lifted the head cloth out of her hand, and began to fold it.

Alya's brow furrowed, as she spoke. "Zillah is very ill, and Grandfather says that she may not survive the night."

The cloth slipped from her mother's fingers, and she paled visibly, turning back to her daughter. "But, Alya, she was fine yesterday." Her voice was carefully controlled, as she stood there woodenly, just staring at Alya.

"Mama… I don't…." Alya struggled to say what she meant, as she held out her hands to her mother trying to comfort her.

Her mother put her hands up in the air, "I am going to speak to Chieftain Bey." She went back into the private area of the tents, and came back winding her cloth around her head. "I'll be back soon, my dear, start dinner for your father and brothers and sisters." She kissed Ayla's cheek and swiftly left the tent.

She hurried to the Bey's compound, and met the medicine man at the door. The wizened old man had his leather bag with him, and seemed to be leaving the tent. "Miriam." He said softly, as she came up to him. His dark eyes, normally so bright and alert, were dark, and unsure.

"Is it true, Abba?" Miriam's grabbed his hand in a vice like grip. "Is Zillah truly dying?"

He bowed his head, not meeting her gaze. "My daughter, there is nothing more that I can do for her. She is in the hands of Allah." He sighed heavily. "You and Zillah have been like sisters, I suggest that you go in to make your final goodbye. Unless there is divine intervention, she will be with her ancestors and with Allah by the time the sun rises."

Miriam bowed her head, and covered her face with her hands. "Abba…"she moaned.

His old eyes were filled with unshed tears, and he gently patted her shoulder, "Go, my dear." He turned her towards the tent flap, and gently pushed. "I will check on you tonight."

Miriam took a deep breath and entered the shadowy tent. The main area was deserted, and so Miriam went back to the family portion. "Zillah?" she whispered into the gloom.

"Miriam?" Zillah's voice was rusty sounding, not the lovely sound that usually came from her lips. Miriam pulled aside the curtain dividing were Zillah was from the rest of the rooms with a shaking hand. She stifled her gasp, as not to upset her friend when her eyes beheld the form on the pallet. Zillah's normally shiny hair was dull and sweat soaked, her skin was pasty, and her lips were cracked. Her dark eyes met Miriam's and they were exhausted with deep circles underneath.

"I'm quite a sight." She said smiling mirthlessly, as she groaned after attempting to move.

"What happened?" Miriam whispered, sitting down on the pillow next to the pallet. "You were fine yesterday…"

Zillah's dark eyes were shadowed. "I do not know… This is so strange. It is like I am seeing two times at once…"

"Zillah?" Miriam asked softly, taking her hand, forehead creased with worry.

Zillah slowly turned her head towards her. "Remember the stories your father told us as children?" Miriam nodded. "The one of the Creature?" Miriam nodded again. Zillah squeezed her hand. "I can see it…"

Miriam felt her heart contract. "What do you mean?"

Zillah's eyes were wide now, and even though her eyes were staring directly into Miriam's, but she didn't seem to see her. "Ayla…" she whispered.

Grabbing her shoulder's Miriam spoke, her voice deceptively calm, "What about Ayla?"

Zillah's cheeks were flushed, and she mumbled something Miriam couldn't hear.

"Zillah?"

She began to gasp, unable to breathe anymore. "Ardeth…" she managed to choke out, "Alya- creature- love-" Her breathing was getting more and more labored, and she let out a piercing shriek.

A man shaped blur burst into the partitioned area. It was the medicine man; quickly he seized Zillah around the shoulders, and pulled her into a sitting position. "Miriam, go!" he bellowed to his frozen daughter who just stood there watching the life fading from her dearest friend. He shoved her with one hand, "You don't want to remember her like this!"

With a sob, Miriam stumbled from behind the curtain and into the main room, tears making it hard to see where she was going.

Zillah's husband, Aasim, leader of the twelve tribes stood before her, pale and sweating. "Miriam…" he stared at her as though he'd never seen her before. "My Zillah… she's not…" His eyes were wide and disbelieving, "No…"

Miriam did not trust herself to speak, and merely nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"No…" he whispered. "No!" his voice steadily increased in volume. "No, she's not dying!"

Almost as though in response to his statement, there was a great shuddering gasp, and then total silence. The medicine man came out from behind the curtain, and shook his head before bowing it. Miriam stuffed her fist into her mouth, as pain ripped through her core. She doubled over, and her tears fell even faster, totally blinding her. Aasim just stood there, opening and closing his hands, and staring off blankly into the distance.

"My lord?" the healer said softly, reaching to clasp his shoulder.

"Leave me…" Aasim whispered his eyes still not focusing, and not turning to the man who spoke to him.

"Aasim…" Miriam's voice broke, and her eyes bored into his as she stared up at him from the floor.

Her soft voice seemed to shock him out of the state he was in. "Go, Miriam." He said softly, tenderly touching her shoulder. "I need to compose myself before I tell Ardeth, and you should prepare your Alya."

Miriam nodded her dark head, as her father reached his hand to her, pulling her to her feet. "Come, child." He told her, "There is nothing more to be done." He looked to Aasim, and quietly spoke, "I will inform the elders, Aasim, and then I will come back so we may prepare her for burial."

"Thank you." Aasim responded, his eyes never leaving the curtain that hid his beloved wife from his view.

Miriam covered her face with her veil, and moving very slowly as though the time she spent in the tent had aged her, she returned to her tent.

Hmmm...Please review?