The Three Camel Brothers

Far away, where the sand rolls like a golden sea, there lived three young camels. They were brothers, and their names were Karim, Tarek and Hadi. Karim was the eldest, and he had calm, wise eyes. Tarek was the middle brother, and he always wore a tiny bell around his neck, so you could hear him coming from far off. Hadi was the youngest, with soft fur and a slightly plump hump he was rather proud of. That evening, they were to set out on a journey, because it was their grandmother Sitti Layla's birthday, and she lived by the oasis on the far side of the dunes.

Each of the brothers carried a gift. Karim had a basket full of honey-soft dates, which he had picked himself in the early morning, when the dewy sky was still pale pink. Tarek carried a polished brass lantern that chimed faintly against his side as he walked. And Hadi, the youngest, carried a small woven blanket in soft earthy colours. He had woven it himself, slowly and patiently, and the edges were a little uneven, but he did not mind. The blanket was warm, and that was what mattered.

The sun sank behind the dunes and drew a long, quiet shadow across the sand. The air, which had been as hot as a baker's oven all day, began to cool almost at once. That is the desert's bit of magic: the heat lingers in the sand a little longer, keeping the paws warm, while the wind over your back is already whispering of night. Karim drew a deep breath and said, 'Now it's time to go. Before the stars grow many, we shall be there.' Tarek snorted happily, pfff, and his little bell gave a short, bright note. Hadi nodded quietly and felt the blanket against his back, like a soft hope. He looked one last time at his mother, who stood at the edge of the rocks and blinked calmly at him. 'Be kind to your brothers,' she had said that morning. Hadi would not have the slightest trouble with that. And so the three camel brothers began their walk.