The runners decided to take a brief nap and to continue their journey in the dark. Soleiman had managed a knot of rag on his knee and arm that temporarily minimized the pain. Mustafa had cooked some fish for the road. The moon was still healthy so it offered enough light for a person to see where he was going. The light created the silhouettes of the trees, visible enough to prevent one from walking head first into a stem. Soleiman was also hurt in the leg but his wound was not as brutal as Mustafa's, so he insisted to carry the supplies. Both walked with the images and memories of their homes in their minds. The dew made the grass feel like soaked sponge. As they walked into the night, they agreed that with the noise they were inadvertently making by stepping on leaves and sticks, a little talking can do little harm. They had been unaware of each other's existence a few days ago and now the survival of either of them was deeply dependent on the other's.
On the way they heard buzzing sounds from nearby. Mustafa reluctantly lit a match and investigated. A bulky beehive hung feet away from them. They both sighed in relief. It would have been a disaster if they had collided with it. Mustafa wanted to keep on walking but Soleiman knew that if they got a hold of some of that honey, it might help them survive another day or two. He lit a torch using that match. Mustafa immediately knew what he was thinking and almost shouted at him. Soleiman motioned him to calm down and picked up some dry leaves from the ground, tied them up and lit them on fire. The smoke made the bees escape the hive for a while.
"Quran says that the bees get their paths communicated to them directly by God", Soleiman spoke as he was directing the smoke towards the hive. Mustafa had of course known this but it seemed to him like an inconvenient setting for a Quran study. As the activity in the hive seemed to be at the minimum, Soleiman gently slashed a piece of the Honey comb and put it in center of the smoke so that the last of the bees can escape. He then put it in the water proof metal box of his compass. They quickly extinguished the torch and walked ahead. Mustafa's limping was worse than the day before.
"You didn't tell me about your teacher", asked Soleiman curiously.
"Hmm, it's only fair I guess, since I already knew about yours", responded Mustafa. Soleiman smiled. "Hikmet Hoca. The man whom I respect as much as my parents. He is responsible for my every good. The one time I didn't listened to him, landed me here".
Mustafa seemed to like the conversation. "What about your parents?", he asked.
Soleiman went silent for a moment. A moment long enough for Mustafa to think that he might have pressed the wrong nerve. But Soleiman spoke.
"I don't remember my father's face. My Mother told me that he used to be a van driver who transported the officers of steel mill. She told me that I was only two years old when he died in a road accident. Since then, my mother had worked as a maid in rich people's houses and as a tailor at home, while I joined a roadside car mechanic as an apprentice to make ends meet".
Mustafa realized that he had made Soleiman uncomfortable and felt sorry for him. "How's your mother?", he inquired.
"She passed away three years ago. But my teacher supported me very much and didn't let me feel the loss".
Mustafa almost palmed his face. "Wow! two for two, you idiot!", he thought to himself.
"What about your parents?", Soleiman asked.
"My father was Idris Avci", Mustafa replied. Soleiman immediately recognized the name. during his days at the Hizb ul Muballigheen Madrasa he had been taught about his heroics. They kept walking and navigating through the darkness of the jungle. Both of them were in pain; physically and emotionally. The conversation numbed their pain and catalyzed the journey.
"The preaching comes from my paternal heritage", he continued. "My father and his father before him have been in this line of work. They had traveled all around the globe for their work".
"I didn't get to see my Grandfather. My father passed away a few years ago but my mother lives in a small apartment in the suburbs outside Ankara. She was the one who…"
Mustafa saw a shadow move in the corner of his eye. He gestured Soleiman to stop. They both stood motionless and silent for a while, then the shadow moved again. The dawn was about to break so a faint light had started to illuminate the woods. They soon realized that the shadow was only about four feet tall. They tried to blend in with the motionless, soundless and dark woods. The shadow moved and they could make out a large curled tail as it shifted. They both went pale with fear. It was a panther that stalked them. The preachers held their breath in an attempt to minimize the sounds coming from them. The monstrous beast would not have taken more than mere seconds in putting them both out of their misery. The preachers felt their minds freeze. They weren't able to think of a way out. The shadow moved again but this time it kept on moving until it vanished. The beast had just reminded them that they were on stranger territory not only by the aspect of geography, but also by the aspect of species. The humans were not the only threat they faced.
Soleiman and Mustafa snapped back to reality and chose to move on. Their luck just might not be this lenient the next time the beast faces them. Besides they didn't want to be sitting ducks for their human assailants. As they moved, they could feel the beast stalking them from a distance. No matter how far they went, they weren't able to shake off this feeling. But there was no option to stop and do something about it. They were no zoology experts but they were smart enough understand that they were no match against that monstrous beast. They focused their mind on the villagers trying to sniff them out like rabid dogs because against them, they might stand a chance.