A Thief

 Generosity.

A highly valued trait in each and every society. But what about those hit by one calamity after the other? Would generosity have the same meaning for them?

Ali Baba knew the answer, for he was one of the countless souls who were struggling to make it to the next day, alive. Generosity for him, was an act of showing off. It was practiced in certain times, just to boast how well those on the giving end are and to remind those on the receiving side how miserable they truly were.

Drought, epidemics, and hunger were none of the times suitable for that practice. For everyone would guard what little they got feverishly. Thus, the likes of Ali Baba were much like some sacrifice to the famine. They were left to fight over scrap with animals or die in some dark notch, unnoticed by anyone.

Neither end appealed to him, certainly, so he went with the only other option. Take what you need with your hands. Not that it was anything new to him. He lived of pickpocketing and lifting from stands in the market.

The difference now was who to go to. Nothing could be robbed from those who don't even have food for themselves. And the few who had, guarded it jealously. They were the wealthy of their village, who managed to sustain a stable amount of living after the fall of their market. 

Robbing those was possible. Robbing those was equally dangerous.

That was why Ali Baba was creeping around the largest building in that small neighborhood, carefully straining his ears for any movement.

Nothing came so far.

He rounded the corner and quietly fiddled with the window latch. He had very little time before the owner of that house came from the meeting with the Sheikh, and he had to be fast and nimble to get the job done.

The wooden panel opened, raising it ever so slightly, Ali Baba managed to slip inside like some cat. His small famished body had some benefits after all, for he could squeeze himself through places no one would ever dare follow into.

He once managed to avoid an angry trader by squeezing into an empty oil jar. It took a while to get out later, but he survived that encounter.

As Ali Baba bent down beneath the sill, he took in his surroundings. He was in the kitchen.

Perfect.

It was empty, that didn't bode well. He had to locate where the rations were hidden and escape with the loot. Taking a deep breath, Ali Baba pushed his body off the wall and began creeping around the small room. So far all the jars and the cupboard were empty, he didn't find so much as scraps anywhere even after touring the kitchen twice. It didn't make sense for the owner of such a big house not to have any food on him.

The boy sat on the ground after rummaging through the baskets and finding nothing, all hope lost for him. His stomach growled in anger, demanding to be fed after days of patience, but he had no means of quelling the merciless hunger.

With all the bitterness he was feeling, Ali Baba raised his head up, as if trying to push the tide of disappointment that swept over him. " Why… why me… why should we suffer like this?"

It was then that his eyes caught an irregular space in the ceiling. Squinting his eyes, Ali Baba stood on his feet and approached it. And as he reached the center of the small room, it became clearer. One of the boards of the ceiling was off place, as though pushed up slightly.

His eyes widened. He hastily grabbed a stool and mounted it, inspecting the board closely. He placed his hand on it and gave it a light shove, and it responded by sliding sideways. Ali Baba reached into the opening, his fingers stretched as though feeling for something, and they were met with a cold jagged surface, mostly round.

He stood on tiptoes and reached with both hands, retrieving a small jar albeit somehow heavy. He picked up the wooden cover and took notice of the gooey substance inside. Rather curiously, he dipped his finger in the jar and licked its tip. The sweetness came as an assault at first, it robbed him of his senses for a moment as he was relishing it before shaking his head and snapping back to reality.

" Honey!" He inspected the jug again. " No one had honey in 3 years! And to think he is stashing it away! If Mum had a bit of this she would be up and about in a day!"

As he placed the jar back, he inclined his head, taking a better look at the hiding place. He could spot bags of bread, baskets of fruits and vegetables, and bottles of oil neatly arranged inside of it. "Hoarding all the food to themselves…" Ali Baba scrunched his nose as he began filling his own bag with whatever he was able to reach. " You ought to share with the rest of us! We're hungry too you know!"

" Thief!"

A cry pierced the quiet atmosphere and alerted the boy. Ali Baba ducked in time before he was swatted with the bushy end of a besom. The stool protested against the sudden movement, its leg snapping. Ali Baba fell to the ground and rolled away from his attacker before they had the chance to strike again.

Getting up to his feet, Ali Baba managed to glimpse a very large woman in tight robes and a red swelling face that threatened to blow off with anger. " Thief!" She cried again, her weapon raised in hand.

Her large body was standing between him and the window so his way of escape was cut. Ali Baba hugged his bag tightly, not keen on losing what he had just looted. His eyes scanned the kitchen for anything he could use and finally fell on the door. If he can't use the window, he might as well use his manners.

He dashed beneath the sweeping broom and wrenched the door open, coming into the central yard. The woman followed after him, crying as loud as she could.

Ali Baba ran to the very first door in front of him, but it turned out to be an empty dark storage room. No windows were in sight to even use them.

A gush of air brushed against his cheek and he flattened himself against the door, avoiding the broom with a hair's breadth. He rolled on the ground, past the large woman.

" You won't get away!" Despite her size, she was quick to adjust her position and go after him. Ali Baba could never escape her, and if caught, he was pretty certain she was going to wipe the floor with his face.

A cry sounded from the sky above them. A blur of blackness swept down and the woman shrieked. A black bird flattered its wings before her, blocking her sight. It dug its claws into her hands and arms as if trying to deter her. The woman cursed as she fended off against the bird with her besom.

Ali Baba laughed and darted for the largest door. Once pulled open, he found himself out in the street. His eyes sparkled with joy and he whistled through his fingers as he ran off. The bird pulled away from the woman and flew off.

Hair messed up and hands and face scratched, she ran to the door just in time to see Ali Baba disappearing down a narrow alley.

" Get back here you thief!" She cried with a hoarse voice unbefitting of a woman. Albeit Ali Baba was already away from her.

As his feet burned and his breathing became ragged, Ali Baba looked behind him yet found no pursuers. He breathed a sigh of relief before directing his eyes to the sky. The black bird from before had followed after him, and when hearing the whistle again, dropped carefully on Ali Baba's extended arm that was awaiting its return. It opened its beak in expectancy.

" Well done Morjana, here's your reward." He popped a date that he had snatched earlier into the open beak and the crow ruffled its feather in joy at the treat.

Ali Baba scratched under its beak before sending it off, climbing over the nearest house's roof and running off…

━━━━━━━༺ *** ༻━━━━━━━

 The sun of the desert is relentless, it always was. It had no mercy for the mourning little girl fulfilling her duty of guarding Al-yamama's walls.

Even as the evening wind was wailing, kicking sand into the air and blocking the sight for most eyes, Zarqa's blue ones were focusing far into the distance.

Zarqa never minded loneliness, she never grew tired of spending hours of watching over the village and its surroundings from the top of the towers. But loneliness that day was dire, for it was filled with memories of her late adoptive mother. Once or twice her vision went blurry.

Move on. She repeatedly reminded herself, blinking away the tears.

By the time the sun was slowly dipping behind the golden mounds and the shadows were growing long, Zarqa leaned over the parapet as something on the horizon caught her attention, a small shadow against the large disk of the sun.

Zarqa squinted her eyes at the dark shape advancing through the sand and wind. Her mind didn't have time to process the unusual sight, because regardless of it, she had to warn her village. So she climbed down the stairs to the floor below where a large old bell was mounted to the ceiling. She grasped the rope and swung, ringing the bell as loud as she could…