Bint of Gilgit ~ Pakistani Love Story ~ ONGOING ~

Honor

To say that her heart was in her throat would have been an understatement. She didn't feel like she had a heart anymore - the thundering blood in her ears nor the pulsing of her skin on the neck mattered as she slammed open the door of the loya jirga (grand council) room. Nobody in this tribe would have ever dared to do what she had, but no one in her tribe had ever been sold out as she had too, she thought bitterly.

Shah Zaman jerked to his feet, the bowl of fruits crashing to the ground. "NAZLI! Have you lost your goddamn mind, girl?" 

Beside him, Hamza stood up mindfully - his worried blue eyes fixed upon her disheveled appearance. Her golden hair had now escaped her plait and her long green kameez (shirt) was stained by mud here and there. But more than that it was the absolute look of anguish on her face . . . something they had not seen in five years. 

Shah Zaman's face relaxed in concern. "Child. What is the matter with you?" He took tentative steps in her direction as if she was some untamed horse that would set off suddenly in a mad spree. More tears leaked out from her eyes as she grabbed a chalkboard and began an attempt to project the betrayal that was erupting from her heart like an angry volcano. But a small chalkboard would never do her emotions justice. Nothing, but her own voice could have . . . 

The door slammed open again and Nazli nearly passed out from the fright. What if . . . what if he had followed her back home? What if he really meant what he was saying? About marrying her?

"SHAHRAZAD!" Shah Zaman boomed, disbelief blooming on his face as he realized that his own offspring had also done the same thing that he had nearly punished Nazli for. "What the hell is wrong with all of you today!" 

"Lanaat (Curse)!" The girl panted, her eyes mirroring the emotion that was prevalant in Nazli's own eyes. "Men! Dozens . . . if not hundreds! Dressed black like the devil! Oh, hell and damnation - they are here too, Baba!" 

For a few moments, no one dared to speak. The last four remaining villagers of the Forbidden Valley knew that they were heavily outnumbered. Whatever the threat was, Shah Zaman knew it was not something they had called upon themselves. No, this threat was a trial from their Lord and like the trial that had come their way before, he would succeed in this one too. 

"Come out, Goldilocks! It does not befit a woman of your courage to run and hide!" 

They all froze - the huge room of the council suddenly boxing them in like prisoners. And then three pairs of eyes snapped to the girl who stood trembling by the corner, the chalk crumbling in her hand like the last of her remaining courage. 

"It's that bastard again, isn't it?" Shah Zaman's stomach flipped in sudden concern as he looked between the two women. "And who is this Goldilocks!" 

Hamza and Shahrazad did not have to look further to know who the unlucky person in question was. Shahrazad was a pale blonde - her hair so yellow that it had an intense brightness of its own on a sunny day. But Nazli had rich caramel hair - courtesy of her mother who had been an outsider from another tribe. Golden hair . . . Goldilocks. 

"Well stop staring at me, you fools!" Shah Zaman cried suddenly, rushing over to the wall and pulling down two shotguns. He slammed one in Hamza's chest while racing to the small window that overlooked the entrance gate. What he saw clearly disturbed him for he took a deep breath and spoke without being able to turn around. 

"Shahrazad, get Nazli and run from the back. Run straight for the mountains! Take my pistol from the drawer!" 

"But Baba-!" 

"NO BUTS! Do as I say for once!" He screamed, turning to face his daughter for a short period with a fear that she had never seen before. 

Shahrazad's stomach dropped at the possibility that these evil men could hurt her Baba, but she still forced her legs into action. The ancient pistol felt foreign in her hands and instead of revelling in its glory, she stared at it skeptically. How was this old rusted metal going to protect them from the shiny rifles those men carried?