*Abdul sits in his barn, his mind rambling on for a few minutes as he listens to the gossip the other slaves tell him. They talk about becoming free men and Abdul, smiles slightly. He watches them with interest and they talk about the war that is going on, and what the revolution means to each of them and about freedom - he has spent so long, he has forgotten his own battle for such. His mind, wanders - back in time.
She stood there, weak and pathatic, the second born female, a slave - she knew she would not amount to anything. Her eyes dark and she hated the path that Allah placed before her, condemning her to this slavery. He came to her and he held in his hand a whip and she knew she had spoken back one too many time, she glared at him - her own brother - she couldn't believe he would do this. She stood there and took his lashings, and that night while he slept she ran away.
He understood the place of a slave, more so then what others thought, he could feel her in his mind, and understood each marking that scarred her skin, that damaged her. He thought back to after that.
Abdul stood there, on the front lines, suddenly the attack began, he loaded his crossbow with percision and fired, and loaded again - mechanical, unfeeling. She was testing him. He fired finally one shot - and it struck right - she dropped to the ground - dead he had thought.
He laughs at this memory briefly, and then it was gone, only to be replaced by yet another haunting memory.
It was the battle he wished for, a sword fight, he stood there and battled with expertise, his movements flowing, his actions cunning, his battle plan perfect. Except..... except.... suddenly a sword peirced into his side, he reared back in pain, biting back the agony he was feeling - he eyed his enemy - and attacked with a fercoity that he still ponders where the strength came from. His sword it seemed ended up with a mind of it's own, and he could feel the blood loss from the mortal wound. His eyes in anger lashed onto the enemy and suddenly in one swift movement his enemy's head lay at his feet. He walked off, into the sands to die respectfully and take his place with Allah.
His eyes hardened as he listened to the newest weapons that the British had presented and without much thought he knew what must be done. He noded and excused himself and went to see Nadia.