Desert Stars – Part 1: The Camel Trek

The dunes rose out of the Moroccan horizon like the back of a sleeping animal, gold and rose and impossibly high. Julia stood at the edge of the sand in borrowed boots and a head scarf that kept sliding into her eyes, watching the camels kneel one by one with groans of complaint.

"They don't like the walk either," said a voice behind her.

She turned. A tall man stood there, weathered and sun-browned, in a blue djellaba and a battered cap. He had dark eyes that crinkled at the corners and a face that looked as though it had spent years squinting into the wind.

"I'm Adam," he said. "Your guide, if you're still brave enough to come. Most people turn back at this point."

"I haven't turned back yet," said Julia.

"You've been staring at the dunes for ten minutes. That's halfway to turning back."

She laughed, short and surprised, and climbed onto the camel he pointed to. It groaned as it stood, and she clutched the saddle, feeling as though she were about to fall off the edge of the world.

"You're doing very well," said Adam from the lead camel, without turning round. "The camel is more frightened than you are."

"I doubt that."

"He is. He's a coward. I've known him for years."

They rode into the desert in silence, the sun sinking lower behind them and the sand turning from gold to copper to violet. The dunes rolled out ahead like waves frozen mid-crest, and the only sound was the soft, rhythmic tread of the camels and the wind hissing over the ridges.

They stopped at a campsite nestled in a hollow between two dunes. Berber tents, a fire, a pot of mint tea steaming on a battered tray. Julia sat on a cushion beside the fire and watched the stars come out, one by one, until the whole sky was a glittering river of light.

"Why did you come here?" asked Adam, pouring tea into a small glass and handing it to her.

"Because I was dumped on a Tuesday," said Julia, and laughed at herself. "After four years. He said I was too much and not enough, all at once. So I bought a plane ticket to the most empty place I could find."

Adam was quiet for a moment, his face half lit by the fire.

"And did the desert help?"

"It's very large," said Julia. "And it doesn't care about my heartbreak at all, which is strangely comforting."

"That's how the desert works," said Adam. "It shows you what you already know, and then it doesn't ask you to pretend."

She looked at him over the rim of her glass. "What do you know?"

He turned his own glass slowly in his hands.

"That I'm happier out here than I am in the town," he said. "That I'm tired of pretending to be a fixer for other people's problems. And that I haven't told anyone that for a long time."

Julia's chest tightened. "Thank you for telling me."

"Can I ask you something?" said Adam.

"Yes."

"Would you like to sit closer to the fire, and watch the stars with me, without talking about your ex for at least an hour?"

She smiled, slowly. "Yes," she said. "But I'd like you to ask me something else first."

"Ask."

"Would you like to kiss me, out here, under the stars, where nobody else can see us but the camels?"

Adam's grin was slow and warm. "Yes," he said. "And if you say stop, the camels will laugh at me for weeks."

"Green?" she asked, softly.

"Green," said Adam. "Very, very green. Now lie back and look up. The desert is about to show you something you've never seen before."

She did, and it was true.