A wounded figure appears in the darkness, and Darius is given a choice between two life paths.
Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
* * *
A Figure in the Moonlight
The small figure walked unsteadily up the center of the path, not sticking to the shadows, but walking openly in the moonlight. It was a cat, there was no doubt of that. It was large for a cat, with a long frame, but very thin. It walked with a limp, and looked like it might collapse at any moment. There was something about its gait and the way it moved its head, seeking something – I did not know what – that made my breath come ragged and thin. My mouth compressed into a line and my chest began to quiver.
Water spilled down my cheeks. Tears, turned nearly into ice by the late autumn wind. I was crying without knowing why. What was wrong with me?
I took a few steps toward the cat and it froze. I took a few more steps, and the cat let out a plaintive, beseeching meow.
I fell to my hands and knees. I tried to speak but my mouth turned down and a sob escaped. I gathered my breath and whispered, “Far Away?”
The cat came to me as quickly as it could, limping. When it reached me it collapsed in front of me. I reached out a tentative hand. It could not be Far Away. He had run into the forest far from here, and disappeared. That had been over a year ago. It could not be him.
Far Away had been a striped orange tabby. This cat had stripes as well, but in the moonlight everything was black and white. I felt the cat’s chest. Its fur was cold and rough, but it was breathing. Far Away had carried a long scar on the side of his neck, from some battle that occurred before he came to me. I slipped my fingers into this cat’s fur, feeling for the scar, and found it.
I slid one hand down the cat’s thin body. I could feel its ribs, and other scars that were unfamiliar to me. This made me doubt once again. I felt warm wetness on my hand. I brought my hand to my nose and sniffed. It was blood. This cat had an open wound somewhere. I reached out and touched the cat’s tail. Far Away had a kink in the middle of his tail, as if it had been broken and healed badly. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. I moved my hand slowly down this cat’s tail, squeezing slightly. Halfway down, I encountered the kink.
It’s My Cat
Something broke inside me, as if my skeleton had been made of thin sticks held together with resin, and the whole flimsy structure had just fallen apart. I began to cry. I scooped the cat into my arms – he was so light – and clutched him to my chest. He was so cold that it seeped into me even through my tunic. My forehead lay in the dirt of the path.
I sobbed as I never had before. It was a wordless wail, sounds breaking out of me like water from a river that had overrun its banks. Incredibly, I could feel Far Away purring against my chest. His claws dug into me rhythmically as he kneaded his paws. Tears poured from me like hot rain. My mouth pressed into the road, my shoulders shook, and I tasted dirt.
I heard the door of the house bang open. Footsteps ran to me.
“Darius?” Lee Ayi’s voice was panicked. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
I lifted my face to her, my expression twisted into a rictus, my cheeks frigid with tears. “It’s my caaaaaaaaaat,” I wailed. “It’s my cat! It’s Far Awaaaaaay.” I dropped my head back into the dirt and sobbed.
Far Away had followed me. He had tracked me somehow. I had left him behind in a strange place, without protection, friendship or food. I had abandoned my only friend. Yet he’d followed me across hundreds of leagues, fighting and starving, suffering who knew what injuries and pain, to find me. No one had ever done that for me. No one had ever cared that much, not even my father.
Where was my father? Why couldn’t he love me enough to stay alive?
I felt hands on me, checking me for wounds perhaps. People were speaking to me.
In that moment, kneeling there, it was not memories of my father that came to me, or even of Far Away, but of my mother. I remembered every sweet song she had sung to me – if not the words, then the feeling of warm, protective love. The way I danced on the dirt floor when she played the flute. The way she fell silent when Father came home, afraid of his drunken temper. I used to run outside and hide in the broken down barn.
I remembered my mother praying. I had completely forgotten that. It was something she did quietly and privately, and only when Father was asleep or away. She stood in the corner, whispering, bowing and prostrating. It was salat, I knew now. She had been a faithful Muslim.
I remembered my mother struggling to breathe before she died, her chest rising and falling like a torn bellows, a sound like a kitten’s soft meow coming from her lungs. I laid my head on her chest, clutching her waist as if she were my lifeline in a stormy sea. Her last words returned to me: “I will always love you, I will always be proud of you, even when you one day forget my face, even when the blows of life strike you down. I will love you from wherever I am. That’s why you will always get back up.”
I had forgotten those words until right now.
Treatment
I felt Zihan Ma’s strong hands trying to pull me up by my arms. At the same time a pair of small arms encircled my back, and I heard Haaris crying. He didn’t even know what was happening. He was crying for me.
Zihan Ma heaved and pulled me up to a standing position. I turned away from him, clutching Far Away tighter against my chest.
“Let me see him,” Zihan Ma said.
“No!” I jerked back, twisting away. “You can’t take him away!”
My voice broke on the last word. I staggered a step, nearly losing my footing, then righted myself, holding the cat as if someone might tear him from me.
Lee Ayi came to me at once. She did not reach for the cat. Instead she placed her hand gently against my cheek, her thumb brushing away the wetness there.
“Darius,” she said softly. “No one is taking him. Zihan Ma only wants to help.”
I looked from her to my uncle. He stood still, watching me. His eyes were sleepy and his hair rumpled, but his expression was steady and patient. The panic drained out of me all at once, leaving me hollow and ashamed. I swallowed hard, drew in a shaky breath, and straightened.
“No,” I said, more quietly. “I will do it.” I had been Zihan Ma’s apprentice for many months now. I knew what to do. I turned without waiting for an answer and walked into the house, cradling Far Away as carefully as I could. My hands trembled, but I forced them to be steady.
In the treatment room I put a towel down and laid him gently on the table, supporting his body so that the injured leg did not bear any weight. Zihan Ma entered behind me and lit the lantern, adjusting the wick until the light grew strong and clear. The familiar sweet smell of herbs and oil filled the room.
I moved automatically, as I had seen my uncle do so many times. Cloth, basin, water, needles, thread, poultices. My hands knew where everything was before I had fully thought of it. From a small jar I took a pinch of crushed herbs and mixed them with a little water, stirring it into a thin, bitter liquid. I drew it up into a narrow bamboo dropper and knelt beside the table. This was a sedative that would make Far Away drowsy, and numb his pain so I could work on him. I made sure to adjust the amounts downward, using far less than I would for a human.
“Easy,” I murmured, cradling Far Away’s head in my palm. I touched the dropper to the side of his mouth and let a few drops fall in. He resisted weakly at first, turning his head, but I held him gently, waiting for him to swallow before giving him more. I did not force it. A little, then a pause. Another drop. I stroked his throat with my thumb until he swallowed again.
“You will feel better soon,” I told him. “You found me, you big dummy. You’re home now, I will take care of you.” Saying these words almost made me start crying again, but I was in healing mode now, and I pushed those feelings away.
Zihan Ma instructed Lee Ayi to boil some water, then he began gathering ingredients. I knew he was making an herbal paste to apply to the wound, to reduce heat and eliminate toxins.
I dipped the cloth into the basin and wrung it out, then began to wash Far Away. I could not find the wound until I first took care of the dirt, dried blood and matted fur. I worked slowly, pausing whenever his body tensed, giving him a moment to settle before continuing. He flinched once, then stilled, his body weak beneath my hands.
“Do not rush,” Zihan Ma instructed. “Let him breathe.”
“Yes sir,” I muttered, and adjusted my pace.
Lee Ayi returned with a pot of boiled water. “What cat is it?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s Far Away,” Haaris replied. “The cat that ran away on the journey here.” He knew my story better than anyone, from the countless hours we’d spent chatting as we worked and played.
“How is that possible? SubhanAllah.”
“Quiet,” Zihan Ma commanded. “Let him concentrate.”
I found the wound. It was not large, but it was deep enough, the edges ragged and inflamed. I felt my chest tighten, but I pushed it aside.
I poured a thin stream of the purified water over the wound, letting it run rather than pressing, watching the blood wash away in diluted streaks. Then I took a smaller cloth and cleaned it carefully. When Far Away tensed, I stopped, resting my hand lightly against him until he settled again.
“Good,” Zihan Ma said. “Now look closely. Is it clean?”
I leaned in, squinting in the lantern light.
“Yes.”
“Then close it.”
I hesitated only a moment before I took up the needle. I had watched this done many times. I had practiced on scraps of leather, on pieces of cloth. Never like this.
I set the first stitch. Too shallow.
“Deeper,” Zihan Ma said.
I nodded, adjusted, and placed the next one properly. Then another. And another. My breathing slowed as I fell into the work, the world narrowing to the needle, the thread, the edges of the wound drawing together.
A Life Saved
As I worked I was aware of Zihan Ma watching. He had seen the dao on my back. He had seen me outside, at that hour, with a blade.
He was an intelligent man. He would have drawn his own conclusions. I did not know what they were. Perhaps he thought I had been wandering. Or looking for trouble. Or worse. Whatever he believed, I knew this much: he would not approve. Yet he said nothing. He was a professional. This was a time for treatment.
I knew, though, that there would be a reckoning, and I feared what he might do.
When the stitching was done, Zihan Ma handed me a small pot of crushed herbs. I applied the medicine, pressing it carefully into the wound, then bound it with clean cloth.
I turned my attention to Far Away’s leg, examining it carefully, running my fingers along the bone. The cat twitched but did not cry out.
“Not broken cleanly,” Zihan Ma said. “A fracture. But it will not bear weight.”
I nodded and began to prepare the splint from two small lengths of wood, wrapped in cloth. I set them along the leg and bound them in place, firm but not tight. I checked it once, twice, adjusting until it sat correctly.
When I finished, I stood back.
For a moment I simply looked at Far Away. He looked smaller somehow, lying there on the table, wrapped and still, but breathing. He was alive. My cat was alive. In my mind, I echoed my aunt: “SubhanAllah. Alhamdulillah. Allahu Akbar. La ilaha il-Allah.”
I turned to Zihan Ma, waiting for the stern words I knew would come. The rebuke, the anger, and maybe even exile. My heart felt unmoored in my chest. Please, I thought. Please do not send me away. I cannot take that right now. What would I do with Far Away ?
I said nothing, but my gaze said it all.
My uncle studied the cat, then me. His gaze lingered for a moment, thoughtful, unreadable.
“Wrap him in a blanket,” he said at last. “And go to bed. Your cat needs to rest and heal.”
“I will take him with me,” I said.
He hesitated. “Very well,” he said finally. “But be careful.”
I gathered Far Away into my arms once more. Lee Ayi stepped aside to let me pass, her hand brushing my shoulder. Haaris stood watching, his eyes wide and shining.
I went to my room and lay down, placing Far Away beside me. I rested only the fingers of one hand on his side, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.
I expected sleep to be troubled. I expected nightmares – I don’t know why. Instead, sleep came over me like cool water in summer, soft and complete, and I slept as I had not slept in a long time, like a man who, if his sins had not been forgiven, had at least been given a reprieve.
A Reckoning
We prayed Fajr. When we were done I started to rise, but Zihan Ma asked me to stay, so I settled back down with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. We sat in silence as Lee Ayi went to begin her work in the kitchen, and Haaris went out to care for the animals.
The room grew very still after they left. The faint light of dawn crept in through the window, turning the walls a pale gray.
Zihan Ma did not look at me immediately. He sat with his hands resting on his knees, his gaze lowered, as if considering how to begin.
“At what hour did you go out last night?” he asked at last.
My throat tightened. “Late,” I said. “After everyone was asleep.”
“And why?”
There was no anger in his voice. That made it worse.
I hesitated, and in that hesitation I felt the weight of all the possible answers pressing on me. I could say I had heard something. I could say I had gone to relieve myself. I could say anything. But each lie seemed smaller than the truth.
“I was training,” I said.
The words fell into the space between us and seemed to settle there.
“With the dao?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once, slowly, as if confirming something to himself. “For how long have you been doing this?”
“Not long,” I said. Then, after a pause, “I go out some nights.”
He was silent again. When he finally looked at me, his gaze was steady, not angry, but searching.
“You have been studying medicine with me,” he said. “You have shown skill and care.”
I swallowed but said nothing.
“And yet,” he continued, “you go out into the night with a blade, practicing to harm.”
“To protect,” I said quickly, before I could stop myself.
His eyes sharpened slightly. “Protection is not separate from harm.”
I lowered my gaze.
“For many years,” he said, more quietly now, “I have treated wounds made by men who believed they were protecting something. Their homes. Their honor. Their pride.” He shook his head faintly. “The body does not know the difference.”
The words settled heavily on me.
He drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. “You stand at a crossroads,” he said. “Whether you see it or not. A man may devote himself to healing, or to violence. The two do not walk together.”
My hands had begun to tremble. I pressed them against my thighs to still them.
He looked at me fully now.
“Tell me the truth,” he said. “If I were to ask you to give this up – your training, your weapons – would you?”
The question struck me like a blow, and for a moment I could not speak. Images rose unbidden in my mind: the feel of the dao in my hand, the clean arc of a strike, the certainty of movement. Then Far Away, broken and bleeding in the dirt. Then my own hands, steady and sure, saving Far Away’s life. My talent with the dao would not have saved him. But my medicine did.
My chest tightened.
“Yes,” I said.
The word came out too quickly. Even as I spoke it, something inside me recoiled. A sharp, restrictive pain, like a belt being pulled much too tight.
Zihan Ma did not respond at once. He watched me, his gaze lingering not on my face, but on my hands.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Attend to your work.”
A Day’s Work
I rose, put on my boots and went out to join Haaris. But I was confused. Zihan Ma had said, “If I were to ask…” But he had not actually asked, had he? Or was it implied?
The day’s work distracted me from such thoughts. Haaris and I went out to the fields as usual, the frost still clinging in patches where the sun had not yet touched. We milked the cows, fed the animals and put the donkeys out to graze. We cut fodder, hauled water, checked the fences along the ditch. My body moved through the tasks with ease now. I had learned the rhythms of the farm, and my hands knew what to do without thought. But my mind was elsewhere.
Every so often I would excuse myself and go inside to check on Far Away. At midday I found him awake. He was too weak to stand, so I fed him by hand, giving him a mixture of ground organ meat and vegetables that Lee Ayi had kindly prepared.
We chopped firewood. I kept glancing back toward the house.
Haaris noticed. “He’ll be fine,” he said, pushing a bundle of cut hay toward the trough. “You did a good job. I’m proud of you.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“What were you doing outside so late anyway?”
“I, um, I heard him meowing.” Yes, I lied to Haaris. He didn’t need to know.
We finished the work more quickly than usual. As soon as we were done, I wiped my hands on my trousers and headed back toward the house.
“Where are you going?” Haaris called after me.
“To check on him.”
“You just checked on him!”
I did not answer.
Inside, the house was warm again. The smell of broth lingered faintly in the air. I went straight to my room. Far Away had gone back to sleep. He lay where I had left him, though he lifted his head when I entered, blinking slowly.
I knelt beside him and examined the bandage. There was a small seep of blood, but nothing alarming. I prepared a damp cloth and cleaned around the wound, speaking to him quietly as I worked. “You silly beast,” I said. “You big dummy. Walking all this way. I hope it was worth it.” What I really wanted to do was beg his forgiveness, but I didn’t have the heart to say the words.
He purred, a faint, uneven sound. I gave him water, and left him to rest.
Reliving the Past
This became my pattern over the next few days. Work, then back to Far Away. Study, then back again. Even when I sat with Zihan Ma during his treatments, I found my thoughts drifting, wondering if the cat had shifted, if he had tried to stand, if the splint had held.
At night I did not go out to train. I could not risk angering Zihan Ma. This was my home. I could not lose it. The dao remained beneath my mattress. I knew it was there. I felt its presence as one feels a heavy purse in a pocket.
Though I’d slept well that first night when Far Away arrived, after that I found myself lying awake in bed, my hands and feet twitching as I ran through fighting movements in my mind. When I trained for real, I performed Five Animals forms and improvised new movements. But when I trained in my mind like this, I found myself drawn to the real fights I’d been in. I relived the life-or-death battle I’d had with the robbers: parry the knife attack and stab the man in the throat. Dodge the other one’s blow and open his belly.
When I replayed the attack in the street, I changed it. Instead of being distracted by the constable, I focused. Instead of being fooled by the feinted kick, I sidestepped the kick while simultaneously driving the point of my spear into the thug’s throat.
Each time I mentally reviewed these fights, I reacted sooner, moved faster. I almost wished I could go back in time and redeem myself.
Not surprisingly, the abstinence from training did not last. On the fourth night I could not restrain myself any longer. I needed the movement, I hungered for it. I rose from bed late at night, when everyone was asleep, and practiced in my room, in my bare feet, running through traditional Five Animal forms as well as my own improvised techniques. I knew I was disobeying Zihan Ma’s wishes, and I felt ashamed. But I couldn’t help myself.
The night after that, I had barely risen to my feet when I had an intuition, then saw the faint glow of light moving across the floor just beyond the doorway. Footsteps, soft and careful. They paused. I tiptoed to my bed and got under the covers just before the door opened partway and Zihan Ma peeked in. He was checking to make sure I had not gone out.
My eyes were open a fraction. I did not move, and kept my breathing slow and even.
After that I could no longer risk it. I stayed in bed, and it was good that I did, because on some nights a shadow passed the doorway, or a board gave a slight creak. I sensed a quiet presence, listening, confirming. This did not make me feel safe. It made something tighten inside me, a small, hard knot of anger, for Zihan Ma did not trust me.
For all the talk of me being welcome here, being Haaris’s brother, this wasn’t my home. At that moment, I felt that I had no one, nothing, except Far Away. Maybe that was extreme, but I had my father’s pride, and I still didn’t fully trust the idea of a loving, caring family. It was foreign to me. What I knew and understood was rejection and abuse.
Those nights, I lay there in the darkness, my hand resting on Far Away, and stared at the ceiling until my eyes burned. Beside me, the cat shifted slightly, pressing closer into my side, his warmth steady and unquestioning. I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep.
Tension
In my medicinal studies I continued to learn about the chi meridians and the effects of the many pressure points. When patients came, Zihan Ma sometimes allowed me to place the needles. In Islamic studies I began studying the asbab an-nuzool – the historical events behind the revelation of specific Quran surahs and ayahs. There was an unspoken tension between myself and Zihan Ma. I felt myself slowly pulling away from him emotionally, as if I were building a suit of armor that fit me like an invisible second skin.
One afternoon as I was tending to Far Away, Haaris came into the room and stood watching me as I changed the bandage.
“You’re always with him now,” he complained.
“He’s injured.”
“So?” Haaris spread his hands. “Baba will take care of him.”
“I’m his healer,” I said, not looking up. “I have to keep an eye on him.”
Haaris made a face, half annoyed, half hurt. “You used to play with me.”
“I still do.”
“When?” he demanded.
I tied off the cloth and sat back. “When there’s time.”
“There’s always time,” he muttered.
I looked at him then. His expression softened a little, but the edge remained. “I’m busy,” I said.
He nodded, but it was a stiff, unsatisfied nod. After a moment he turned and left. I watched him go, then turned back to Far Away, adjusting the bandage once more though it did not need it.
When Thursday arrived, Zihan Ma surprised me. Still sitting on the floor after Fajr, he said, “Make sure today that all the tools are put away at the end of the day. Water the animals well and leave extra feed for them. Stack the firewood under the overhang, so it doesn’t get rained on. Make sure Far Away and Bao-bao-Bao-bao have plenty of food and water as well. Make a cushion for Far Away on the floor, in case he gets up. And check with your aunt to see if there’s any work she needs you to do.”
Haaris looked at his father with a grin. “Is he -?”
“Yes. Darius, you are coming with us to Jum’ah tomorrow. Your auntie Lee as well.”
My mouth fell open. What about my mother’s family, who would supposedly kill me if they knew I existed? And who would watch the farm while we were gone? But I asked no questions. I broke into a wide, excited smile. I was going to Jum’ah for the first time! I would meet other Muslims, see the inside of a masjid, and maybe even eat some city treats. It would be a good day for sure.
* * *
Come back next week for Part 11 – Deep Harbor
Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!
See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.
Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.
Related:
As Light As Birdsong: A Ramadan Story
Kill The Courier – Hiding In Plain Sight
The post Far Away [Part 10] – Lost And Found appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.
had chosen them to visit His Home. Their invitation was honored and celebrated as a community. This inadvertently dishonors those who are not able to go for Hajj that year—whether due to financial constraints or debts—, or those exempted from going throughout their lives due to health. It can ultimately weigh heavily witnessing repeated celebrations, because it reinforces the notion that those exempted were not just not included by Allah ?”
footsteps?
that the Prophet Muhammad 
“By the dawn, and by the ten nights.” [Surah Al-Fajr; 89:1–2]
reported Allah’s Messenger 
