Escape
Subinyá said nothing on the way back home. His white hair ruffled like feathers in the breeze before Amir, who followed and mirrored Subinyá’s stooped gait. Age bowed Subinyá and Amir by shame.
At home, the men bathed and prepared for dinner. The woman set the table with curried rice and lamb. Flatbread in busy hands scooped up the rice, and they ate without speaking. Subinyá’s wife watched the men whose somber faces told of bad news.
“Shall I make some tea?” She asked.
Subinyá, staring ahead at Amir’s bowed head, replied, “Yes, dear. Tea would be nice.”
His wife went to the kitchen to give her husband and nephew privacy.
“I am sorry I failed you, uncle.”
“You didn’t fail me. Today, you learned all you need to know about the way of the judges, and this knowledge has placed your life in danger.”
The young shepherd’s ashen face could not show all that raced through his mind about the day’s horror, but it was enough for Subinyá to tell him his harsh options. “If you stay here, they will come for you soon and take you away.”
Amir’s head dropped lower as if his uncle’s words had weight. “Is this God’s will?”
“Perhaps it is God’s will. You can go back to your father’s bakery in the old city. The Red Scorpions have not taken control of it yet.”
The young shepherd lifted his head. “Father will not be pleased; I caused trouble with the red turbans.”
“If you don’t go home, they will find you buried in a martyr’s grave.”
“I’ll pack tonight and leave in the morning,”
“You must leave tonight. I’ll go with you. The darkness will protect us from the robbers and judges.”
Amir accepted his uncle’s dire warning and the need for urgency. Confusion and the horror of the execution made preparations difficult and sapped the young man’s energy. His aunt came in and helped him collect his meager belongings. She put the leftover bread in a cloth and placed it on top of the pack of dingy clothes.
“Are you ready, boy?” Subinyá said.
“Yes, Uncle.”
Amir marveled at his uncle’s attire. He wore the old cavalry’s vest, riding pants, and high-top boots. His ornate dagger was stuck in the sash around his waist. An old revolver rested on his hip in a stiff leather holster. Subinyá’s white turban had a falcon emblem centered above his prominent nose.
“Come then. Our horses are outside waiting.”
They hugged Subinyá’s faithful and long-serving wife and left her weeping on the porch.
The old man no longer stooped in the saddle. He rode erect, his arms holding loosely to the reins. They went up into the pastures and up to the mountain passes. Subinyá explained it was safer not to travel on the roads, where anyone they met along the way could challenge them.
“We have a better chance with the wolves and mountain lions than the serpents that inhabit the major routes.” He said.
And now we mosey through the story’s transitional phases as Amir grows up. This is a first draft with no editing other than the usual grammar, spelling, and punctuation. My thanks and gratitude go out to Not Very Deep Thoughts and Anonymole for their help in shaping the behind the veil manuscript into a real story with some BAM! And proper presentation.
Hyperion Sky 
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