After the events of the night, the pilgrims were resting among the dunes. Within the drowsy crowd, Nahumi rose quietly and, with delicate steps, left the communion of pilgrims and continued her journey alone.

  The morning air gently brushed Nahumi’s red hair, but she paid it little mind and quickened her pace, hoping to move forward before the sand began to heat.

  The great road of red sand used by the pilgrims stretched toward the horizon. Every country lay close to that “village.” Time passed quickly, and the sand began to burn, but Nahumi did not worry much. In the distance, she could already see small huts standing out against the desert landscape.

  Nahumi was tired. She needed water. Acting on impulse, she sped up, but something caught her attention. The closer she got, the more she noticed a cluster of people. Something smelled wrong. She could not help but wonder what was happening.

  “Mm…”

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  Nahumi whispered. She did not think much about it and decided to enter the village. She had not yet reached the crowd, but she noticed their blind faith: women covered in veils down to their feet, men with faces marked by Rutanium, children bearing their first traces of Rutanium dust. Nahumi observed her surroundings, but it did not take long for people to notice her. They stared at her, slowly, disapprovingly. They did not like that Nahumi was not dressed like a “believer.”

  Something inside Nahumi grew uneasy without her knowing why. Without realizing it, her breathing became erratic, and suddenly… a scream. It came from the very crowd she had seen from afar. Curiosity overcame her fear, and cautiously she approached. She saw it.

  Several people raising their voices, not loud, but overwhelming.

  “—Alkhi!”

  “—ALKHI!” (Sinner)

  “—ALKHI NHAP.” (Insolent sinner)

  At the center of it all was a young woman, without a veil, without Rutanium marks, nothing visible to show that she believed in “Him.” The young woman was trembling. Her body was bleeding from all the stones people were throwing at her… simply for not believing. The women looked disgusted. The men believed they were doing what was right in the eyes of the Zhiary.

  There came a moment when the young woman no longer moved. Only her body remained, bleeding, covered in bruises caused by the crowd. People began to leave when they realized she no longer moved. Nahumi had witnessed everything, and once again she felt it: the stares upon her. Just like the girl, Nahumi wore nothing that explicitly showed she believed in the Zhiary.

  Some women began to whisper. Nahumi had to act, or she would end up like the girl. Her breathing quickened, cold sweat ran down her skin, and fear for her life took hold. From her rags, she tore a piece of fabric and, with trembling hands, placed it over her head, imitating a veil. Though she did not pray, she moved her hands as if she were. Little by little, the women and men stepped away.