Not sure how I'm going to alternate these writings. I kind of want to write between both perspectives and perhaps many more - but I am not that great with english and I could easily make it super confusing. I'm not even sure if my current writing makes any sense to people haha (maybe I need sleep). Anyways, this is done in Ikram's point of view. Maybe I'll do two and two, but what if I want to add more points of views - maybe I can have minor ones added in with page breaks? eeh. wheeeee...

The world flew by so fast, a blur of stone and sand across the landscape. I'm soaring off the buildings in the city; the wind stretched passed me as I moved forward, brushing through my black hair. My eyes started to adjust to the speed, the shapes of the buildings becoming more concrete. Was this Damascus? I looked around me, a city so foreign and in front of me was the sea. Masyaf..? I saw the ports with their ships. Birds of white plumage flew passed me, obscuring my vision of the blue ocean. There was another bird flying with the seagulls…chasing them..? Feathers of pure white snow, but a hooked beak and cruel yellow eyes, its talons outstretched!

As if the world had slowed down, I was no longer in flight. The world spun upside down as time seemed to speed up again.

I was falling.

I sat up so quickly I saw my sister jump with fright, falling onto her feet. Bah, that means I overslept didn't I? I had not slept enough the night before and so the prayers before dawn took a lot out of me. I came home and fell asleep soon after it, but lessons were prepared today for Asra and I. I pulled the rest of my blankets off. I blinked a few times to adjust my sight as well as trying to make sense of what I had dreamed about, but the vision had vanished. The sun had just risen into the sky, hanging softly outside my window – morning. All I did was stare at my room, the plain walls and the wooden drawer next to my bed. I grasp the handle of the drawer door, but then changed my mind about opening it. Ugh, mornings always through me off - what was I suppose to be doing again?

"Momma said I was to wake you. Are you okay?" my sister asked as I grabbed her arm and helped her off the floor. I nodded. Then I ran out the door, hearing Asra's feet following me. Our teacher Bakr was standing in the living room, waiting. He seemed as old as the parchments he was holding, each piece of paper without a touch of dust regardless of its aged demeanor. He pointed towards the chairs at the dinner table and we hurried to our seats. Mother walked up to the counter putting away the rest of the dishes, humming a song to herself. She was wearing a beige hijab, the soft cloth hid her hair and in her arms was a length of colored fabric.

"I am heading out." Mother placed the cloth in a bag as she walked towards the house door. She adjusted her dress a few times, and pulled on her shawl. "Please behave with Bakr hm?"

"Where are you going mama?" Asra asked.

"Where is father?" I added.

"Asra, Zahra is getting engaged. I will be going to the tailor today to make her a gift. Your father will be busy preparing for your trip to Masyaf, Ikram." Mother looks at us for a second time before heading out the door. "I will be back soon."

'Now, shall we see if you have improved since the last time I was here Ikram?" Bakr placed few manuscripts he had down in front of us. Most of Bakr's lessons were taught by listening to him speak. He has access to the libraries in the upper-city. But when I saw the pieces of parchment in his hand my heart sank. Picking out the parchment and ink, he sets it in front of me. I groaned, cursing quietly in my mind. Ugh, the one thing I don't care for...my writing was terrible and everyone knows it – wasn't speaking the language enough? I understood why mother would pay for someone to teach us, but why was it so boring? I let my disapproval show.

"Ikram, your sister could finish writing all pieces of the Surah Al-Fatihah before you even start your name!" my face flushed red as Bakr snapped at me. He didn't have to exaggerate the point. Too embarrassed to say anything, I furiously started scribbling down letters, the quill pen scratching the parchment loudly.

"What should I do teacher?" I heard Asra speak up. I wanted to turn my head to see if she was looking at my writing but Bakr's presence kept my eyes on my paper. The ink smelled of iron, slightly acidic, odd.

"I believe I can have you study basic arithmetic. It would be useful for you to keep track of domestic finances if your husband does as much traveling as your father does child." Bakr ran his hand through his full gray beard, reading through the titles of each small book before handing one to my sister. I quickly averted my eyes and focused what was in front of me again. I could hear my sister's feet shuffle uncomfortably.

Hours had passed by, and I had written so many things – some legible, others a giant black mess – that my wrist protested from the ache of overworking it. I leaned forward, resting my head in my arms. I wanted to go outside, do something – just no more writing! I glanced up from where I laid, my head still resting on the table. Asra was getting bored too, I could tell from the pictures she had doodled on her parchment.

"Asra, I thought you were supposed to be good at writing."

"I am! I'm just copying how you do it." Asra laughed, as I fixed my posture and pulled the parchment from her. I looked at the scribbles. One of them was a picture of me being crushed by a pile of books. Or bricks. Whatever. I crumpled it in my palm.

"Hey!" Asra cried out but then covered her mouth as she realized she might have been too loud.

But Bakr wasn't paying attention to us. Not anymore. He seemed to be watching something outside the window.

"Is something wrong?" I moved myself off the chair. My back was hurting from all the sitting anyways.

"It seems there has been an incident, you two stay here." Bakr replied as he headed outside.

I quickly walked towards the window; people were running, lots of them. They were going back into their homes. I saw our aged teacher stop one of them, a middle aged woman. I could feel my sister's fingers on my shoulder as she tried to get my attention.

"What's happening?" Asra moved towards me to see out the window as well.

"Sh." I tried to listen in on the conversation Bakr was having with the lady but there were many voices.

"Some strange men started attacking by the market center!"

"The guards should fix the problem soon - we should be careful for now."

"Mama is at the tailor's Ikram," Asra looked at me with her brown eyes - concerned, I stared back.

"She's probably fine, the tailor she visits isn't even close to the center of the town." I reasoned.

"So what now?" Asra asked quietly, her hands clung to each other – fingers fidgeting nervously.

"We wait obviously." I scratch my head furiously as I watched my sister. I could hear commotion outside, people gathering and conversing with each other. Ikram looked up. Neighbors were walking out of their homes, talking. Perhaps the guards had stopped the commotion. Was mother okay? Where was father, what is happening right now? I scoffed impatiently.

"Well, I'm done waiting." I leap onto my feet. "I'm going to see what's going on outside," and look for mother, I thought to myself. I just didn't want to sit inside anymore. Mother was taking too long.

"Stay here okay? I'll be right back" slipping out the back window, I ran down the dirt path.