One of the Seven

Malik and Salam leaned against a palm tree, seated under its shade drinking palm wine from a well-encrusted calabash cup. A plate of roasted meat was placed on a small stool, while hot steam from pepper soup wafted in the air.

Malik watched Salam keenly, then laughed, shaking his head. "Spill the beans now, will you?"

Salam, whose eyes had been staring elsewhere, quickly looked at Malik with wide eyes. He knew that nothing ever went unnoticed by him but still wanted to be sure his mind wasn't drifting where he thought it went.

"What truth do you want to hear?" Salam raised a brow at him.

Malik tsked, then sipped his palm wine again. "Arghhh, this one is harsh enough not to make you gulp too much." He placed the cup on the stool and tore a part of the roasted meat with his hand. As he munched on it, he kept looking at Salam, who avoided his gaze as he also took a piece of the meat.