The silence that fell after her words was almost tangible, heavy and thick in the confined space between them. Dawud could feel the weight of it pressing down on his tongue, on his very being. He had held the secret for so long it was a part of him now, a second, ugly heart beating in rhythm with his own. Saying it aloud would mean risking to pull it out and bleed on the parched ground.
He looked down at Sarah's hand, still resting on his arm. It was an anchor. A tethership to the world of humanity he was rapidly leaving behind.
He panted for air, the wind searing his dry throat. "You will think me mad," he panted, the words tumbling.
"I already think something impossible is happening," she replied, her voice steady, though her eyes were wide. "Try me."
And so he did.
He began stammer
