PROLOGUE.

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> SET IN 1980's

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> SET IN 1980's

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The caravan rumbled and shook as it journeyed far east, the well-worn wheels crunching over gravel and dirt. The sky above was a canvas of fading daylight, painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun began its slow descent. In one of the lead caravans, a girl adjusted her headscarf, pulling it up from her eyes to get a clearer view of the road ahead. The soft clinking of her gold-colored bangles echoed in the confined space, a familiar and comforting sound.

Her eyes widened as they approached a grand gate, the entrance to an estate shrouded in mystery and opulence. She tried to catch a glimpse of the mansion beyond, craning her neck to see past the gate's wrought iron bars. Her mother, brothers, sisters, and grandmother did the same, their curiosity piqued by the promise of luxury hidden from their view. Despite her position by the window, the dense foliage and high walls obscured her vision, leaving the mansion just out of sight.

With a final jolt, the caravans whirred to a stop, and the sudden halt caused everyone to press together. The girl quickly gathered her belongings and stepped down from the caravan, joining the bustling activity around her. The group of nearly forty people moved with purpose, knowing they had limited time before nightfall.

The air was filled with the sounds of preparation: the clatter of pots and pans, the murmur of voices, and the rustling of fabric as tents were erected. They needed to get their fire going and food ready before darkness enveloped them. Tonight's meal would be simple but nourishing-roasted potatoes and lentils. It would be their first meal of the day, and the aroma of cooking food would soon weave through the camp, a beacon of warmth and sustenance.

Her father, a figure of authority and calm amidst the chaos, addressed the group. "We will be staying here for a month," he announced, his voice carrying over the din. The pack members nodded in acknowledgment, understanding the unspoken implications of his words. A month in this location meant settling into a temporary routine, building a semblance of home in this new environment.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the landscape, the girl joined her family in their tasks. She helped gather firewood, her fingers nimble and efficient. Her siblings worked alongside her, their chatter and laughter a backdrop to the evening's preparations. Her grandmother, with years of experience etched into her weathered hands, oversaw the cooking, ensuring the lentils simmered to perfection.

The fire was soon crackling, its flames dancing and casting a golden glow over their faces. The scent of roasting potatoes mingled with the earthy aroma of lentils, a promise of the hearty meal to come. They worked in unison, a well-practiced rhythm born of years spent on the road together.

As they sat down to eat, the girl looked around at her family and friends, the faces illuminated by firelight. Despite the long journey and the uncertainty of their nomadic life, there was a sense of community and belonging that bound them together. They shared stories and laughter.

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