The coldness of the well pressed against my skin, each breath forming a cloud in the damp air. Alone, encircled by relentless stone walls, each minute seemed to stretch indefinitely. The darkness was so thick that every sound seemed amplified, echoing like in an empty cavern.
Then, a subtle rustle broke the silence. Something gently scraped against the stone, a sound almost sweet, reassuring despite its quietness. My heart, heavy with solitude, lifted with hope. I leaned towards the sound, eyes squinted in the darkness, searching for the source of this ghostly noise.
A small dark shape emerged against the faint circle of light above, just for a moment. The intruder was too small, too blurred for me to make out its details, but its audacity in approaching sparked a flicker of joy in me.
"Who are you?", my voice, breaking the oppressive silence, betrayed my renewed hope. The silhouette stopped, hesitant, weighing the danger before cautiously moving forward.
It approached, its small steps barely making a sound, a soothing contrast to the loud noise of my own breathing. As it became more distinct in the light that penetrated the well, a fragile bond formed between us, carrying hope in the darkness.
Without warning, it vanished into the shadow. Fear pricked me—could it have been just an illusion? But soon it returned, a blurred shape against the light, carrying something small and round in its mouth. With precision that belied its small size, it dropped a fruit near the well's opening.
This simple gesture, this fruit fallen from nowhere, was a feast for me. It vanished again, returning with an insect which it tossed with equal care into my stone prison.
This cycle repeated, turning each visit into a small miracle. The food, simple yet vital, brought more than just physical comfort but also a common need for all species inhabiting this world.
With each dawn, the anticipation of its return kept me awake, kept me alive. The emerging light often signaled the approach of my sole companion in this solitude. Each visit was a lifeline, a break in the relentless flow of my despair.
That morning, as dawn timidly broke the darkness, a slight rustling on the sand preceded its appearance. It moved with caution, each movement marked by an almost poetic delicacy. Its daily return reassured me of its survival despite the many dangers of the desert.
It placed before it a small fig, the fruit shining under the weak daybreak light. "Thank you," I murmured softly, my fingers brushing the coolness of the fruit brought from a world I could no longer reach.
Observing its enigmatic silhouette, a thought crossed my mind—it deserved a name, something to cement the bond that grew daily between us. "Sahar," I whispered, a name chosen to evoke dawn, for she was my first ray of light in the oppressive darkness.
A soft growl, more sweet than threatening, rose from the top of the well. It was a sound I had never heard from her before, a sound that seemed to affirm the name I had just given her. Sahar accepted her new name, another small link between us.
As I clung to the sweet routine of our interactions, one day, the atmosphere changed abruptly. The usually measured rhythm of her steps became hurried, almost disordered. I listened intently, worried, my mind turned to the dangers of the desert that I could see only in my imagination.
The sound of Sahar's steps was suddenly overwhelmed by a menacing rumble, deeper and more terrifying. Hyenas. Their macabre laughter mingled with the shrill cries of other creatures, creating a cacophony of threats that invaded the space around the well.
My heart clenched. "Sahar!" I cried out, my voice carried by urgency and fear. The silence that followed was more terrifying than any sounds of the night hunt. Minutes stretched into hours, each second weighing heavy on my soul with worry for my little guardian.
Night fell without another sign from Sahar. I oscillated between hope and despair, praying she had escaped the sharp fangs of the hyenas. It was only at dawn, as the first light pierced the veil of night, that I heard her steps again. They were weak, hesitant, but they were hers.
She approached the well, and with a gentleness that betrayed her fatigue, she dropped another offering. "God be praised, you are well, I am glad," I murmured, immense relief flooding my heart. She had returned, she had survived. Even though I could not see her, I could feel her presence, still resolute.
One day, strange sounds pierced the usual silence—human voices, the noise of steps and clashing metal. These sounds were a symphony to my ears, deprived for too long of any human contact.
Startled by this sudden activity, Sahar fled hastily. I gathered all my strength and shouted for help, hoping someone would hear me.
Soon, faces appeared above the well. One of the men tried to lift the bucket on which I was, but the weight was too much for him alone. Another joined him, and together, they began to pull on the rope.
Every inch that the bucket gained, my heart leapt with hope. After an eternity suspended in the dark, I was hoisted out of the well. I was free. I was saved.
My eyes, accustomed to the darkness of the well, were dazzled by the sunlight. But despite the pain, I smiled, happy to be back among the living. However, the relief of my liberation was short-lived.
As I adjusted to the light, I saw with surprise the astonished faces of my rescuers, discovering that they were amazed to find a child in the well that served them as a water source. Behind them, I saw people chained, slaves bound by wrists and ankles.
"A child? Here?" they murmured. My gaze fell on my rescuers who discussed among themselves, not about my well-being, but about my value. "As beautiful as he is, he could fetch a good price at the market," one said, his eyes scanning my face as if evaluating a precious object.
My heart tightened as I realized I had exchanged one prison for another.
Then I caught sight of Sahar, trying to come back to me. For the first time, I clearly saw that he was a fennec, with large ears and thick fur. But before I could make a move, he was caught by the men who had discussed my fate.
One of them exclaimed, seizing Sahar. "Look at this fur, it will be worth gold!" Sahar's eyes met mine one last time, filled with a silent, heartbreaking understanding, before a man grabbed a knife and took his life. His cries mingled with my own screams of despair as I realized that nothing would ever be the same again.
Chained with the other slaves, I was forced to walk under a scorching sun, ignoring the pain and fatigue. Each night, locked up with the others, I cried silently for the loss of Sahar and my freedom. Each day, I wondered why this had happened to me and mourned the innocence I had lost.
The crossing of the desert was exhausting, a never-ending descent into misery. We finally arrived in a city that seemed a mirage in the vastness of the desert. There, we were taken to a slave market where we were displayed like mere merchandise.
As the sun began to set, two figures detached from the crowd and approached slowly, their eyes fixed on me. My heart clenched with anxiety as I waited, powerless, to discover the next chapter of my ordeal.