Harmindon's Finest

Chapter 2 - Facing Fears

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The sandstone cliffs that protect our city always scared me as a young child. Mother warned me never to go too far through the maze of stark, eerie rock, for I would get lost, and probably never find my way home. Upon reflection, I am beginning to think this wasn't entirely true, just told to children so that they wouldn't go exploring and get lost. Our tiny little domain was quite close to the edge of the city though, and there was no way of escaping it on a daily basis.

Even now, deep down, I still harbour a secret unknown fear of those huge, looming cliffs, in which every whisper was magnified, and the usually welcoming sounds of birdsong out of place and distorted. That is why when Miarka came to me one of my free mornings wanting to play "in the maze," I shivered involuntarily as if suddenly chilled by an invisible hand brushing my shoulders.

I told myself firmly I was only being ridiculous, so I went to play. I made Grandmother promised she'd see to anyone who came to the door, and we set off.

How I hated leaving the friendly, colourful city behind us, walking under the shadow of the cliffs as if entering a different world. The immense walls of stone were quite close together and the sun, except during midday when it was directly above them, could not shine its light and warmth, and therefore we were walking in the sudden cold and dark. This didn't seem to bother Miarka, though, and much as I disliked our city's natural boundaries, I liked losing face in front of Miarka even less. So I chatted to her and acted as excited and cheerful as any other girl of thirteen years of age.

I was getting good at hiding my feelings.

"What do you want to play then?" I asked, ruffling Miarka's hair. It was quite different to mine- although the same dark colour, it was thick and curly, whereas mine was thinner, and only naturally wavy. Whenever I washed it, I admitted to myself I would give anything to have hair like Miarka. But at the moment I wasn't thinking about hair, because my little sister's seemingly boundless energy was beginning to become infectious.

"Hide and seek!" Miarka trilled, dashing off. "You're it!"

I rolled my eyes fondly and began to count loudly, so that she could hear. There was no need to cover my eyes, as Miarka insisted I do when we played in the city, because the corridor of walls was hiding place enough. I hung around for a while, scraping patterns into the dusty rock with my finger, and eventually called out -

"Coming now, ready or not,
Keep your place or you'll be caught!"

My voice echoed horribly, and a glimmer of the old fear began to creep back, but I forced it down and went in search of Miarka. When we played hide and seek in the city, we would always hide in the marketplace because it was always full of people and animals and wares waiting to be sold on countless stands, so it was easy to hide. Once when Miarka had been irritating me I didn't hide in the marketplace itself, rather in some alley leading off it, which my sister wasn't expecting, so it took her forever to find me.

I tried putting myself in Miarka's mind, to guess where she had gone. This worked in the city, but not here. Thinking of home made me worried about money, about my work, about that awful embroidery I was attempting on a shawl someone had commissioned - I pushed these thoughts away by forcefully shaking my head. It was rare enough I got to play with Miarka these days and I didn't want to spoil it.

Suddenly, I heard a tiny, suppressed sneeze.

Well, that was one of the benefits of playing hide and seek in a place where there was no crowd of people to cover every tiny noise you made.

"Ha!" I jumped around the corner and grabbed Miarka by the shoulders. She shrieked in surprise, and I laughed until my sides hurt. She chased me through the maze, still cackling with laughter, until we called a truce and it was my turn to hide. In retaliation for frightening her, Miarka started counting at top speed, onetwothreefourfive.... but I, expecting this, had already raced away.

I sat down behind a boulder and waited.

And waited.

"Miarka?" I called tentatively. No reply.

All of a sudden I was swamped with fear, the old fear I knew from when I was very small- Jeddah, I once knew a girl like you who went too far into the maze, and she never found her way home. The small part of my mind that remained sensible reminded me that all mothers told their children this so that they don't run off and get lost, but what had I done? Run off and got lost.

"Miarka!" I shouted, emerging from my hiding place with growing panic. No reply, and I wished with all my might I could just run, run away from these accursed walls and back home. When I was Miarka's age that was the solution to all my little concerns, to run away, literally and figuratively. When I was sent to get firewood from the pile behind our house in winter evenings, there was spiders and shadows lurking in the dark and I would run back inside, eyes squeezed shut. When Mother was having a bad day, I would wait until she was asleep and run to the solitude of the peaceful gardens at Na'Man ab Jubayr, pretending not to hear the awful racking coughs that penetrated even my dreams.

But here there was nowhere to run. I decided I could not run; I could stay and deal with the situation. I was not a child anymore. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself I looked around the large boulder and set off.

While I walked, I looked up. The sky was as blue as ever, and I could only hope it was soon midday, and the sun would shine in, giving me some hope of finding my way home. But my current priority was finding Miarka. I called again, several times, but when I was met with only silence, I gave up.

I tried to think of some positives about this sandstone maze. It was a natural boundary for the city for one, and we were therefore protected from attack by the natural terrain. They truly were a marvel of nature, I realised. And there were some signs of life- a thin patch of yellowing grass here and there, and the occasional sound of the fluttering of bird's wings high above me. I spotted a cluster of small pink flowers growing in a crack, larger versions of which I knew from the gardens. I was so delighted at my discovery that I almost forgot the situation I was in. I didn't pick any, though- they had fought so hard to live in these harsh conditions that I couldn't just take one.

I realised I had something in common with the tiny pink flower- we were both survivors. I had managed my childhood fear, fought it, and conquered, so quickly I was astonished at myself. Maybe I did dwell on things too much- Grandmother was right. Then again, Grandmother was mostly right about everything anyway.

So deep was I in my musings that I almost didn't see it, faint patterns - swirls and knots, my usual embroidery patterns - traced into the dust of the wall. At that moment, several things happened at once, all of them adding to my positive, hopeful thoughts. As I realised I was at the place where I had counted for Miarka, delighted because I knew where I was, so close to the city, I heard my little sister call for me, faintly, in the distance. And at the same moment, the sun shone over the ridge of high rock and brightened the entire passage.

"Jeddah!" She cried, and I called for her, and upon hearing my voice ran into my arms. "I couldn't find you, I was all alone, and it was dark and cold and I was scared!"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded, eyes wide.

"So was I. I was so afraid I would never find my way home. But look around the corner- we are almost there! You clever girl, going the right way." Reassured, Miarka broke away from our embrace, wiped away the tears glistening on her cheeks and bounced up, all her energy miraculously restored. "Race you!"

I was so thankful that I had an excuse to run that I agreed, and we chased each other back to the familiar sight of the small house with a wood pile at the back and carefully sewed red muslin curtains drawn back in the daylight, laughing and joking and teasing as all siblings do.

"Where have you two been?" Grandmother was standing in the doorway smiling, and I nearly swooned in relief.

"We had an adventure!" Miarka crowed, and when Grandmother took her to wash the dust off her hands, I heard her light-hearted chatter. Indeed, I thought as I sat back to my work, we'd had an adventure - not one I particularly wanted to repeat. But all was well, and I embroidered flowers that day in memory of those that survived in the dusty cracks of the high sandstone wall that surrounds our beautiful city.

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