Chapter 1
Yesterday, they had been one-hundred-and-nine. Today, they are only twelve.
Nuhu. The thought shoots through Anaya like a sword. She clutches at her abdomen where just one year prior, it had been as ripe as a mango.
No one had seen him or the girl since the attack that morning.
Anaya had been out in the fields, Hannatou watching him when the raid had begun.
The warriors had appeared like ants on the far horizon, first their heads, swimming in the mirage of heat created by the hot desert ground, and then, as they rose from the wadi, their bodies appeared, arms swinging with purpose as they moved toward the outcropping of huts, machetes glinting against the sun.
