The Adventure Begins

* * *

A hot orange sun beat down on the drifting sands of Egypt, where great pyramids rose up to greet a cloudless blue sky. There Ava, a girl of about ten years old, was fetching water with her trusty camel.

"Look at it, Sandstorm," said Ava to the camel, pointing at the majestic skyline. "Isn't it magnificent?" Sandstorm swatted a fly from his side, a gesture that looked an awful lot like a yes. "Imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that, to want for nothing! The palace ... it's simply beautiful."

Ava could only imagine what it would be like to live like a princess—to heave a heavy crown upon her head, to reign over all this beauty. But the reality was all Ava would be heaving was her heavy, water-logged bucket. She jerked it high upon her camel's golden brown back, put aside her daydreams, and prepared to journey home.

Home—

It wasn't what you'd think.

Among the great pyramids that rose up to greet the cloudless blue sky, only miles from the most magnificent palace you've ever seen stood a patchy, rundown hut with only one room. In its small front yard was a single pole to tether Sandstorm.

This was home, a far cry from palace gates and daydreams.

Reality had sunk back in. Ava jumped to the ground below, reddened dust kicking up from her sandals and billowing off in a desert breeze.

"You stay here," Ava warned, tying up Sandstorm securely before heading into the house. She hoisted the heavy bucket of water from the camel's back, almost spilling it to the ground.

"Ava, my gem," called her dad, "I'll carry that for you. Here, you get started on dinner, huh? I'm famished!"

"Yes, Dad," replied Ava gently.

Ava was a very good cook, which was quite a fortunate thing. Her dad burned toast just looking at it, and once he almost set what little house they did have on fire when he was trying to make stew!

After she lost her mother when she was only six, Ava had to learn to do things for herself. But she didn't mind. She liked taking care of her dad because he took awfully good care of her. That was the way her mother would have wanted it.

Without even having to think, Ava took some grain from an old jar and began to toss it, removing the hard, dirty shells. Then she reached into a thin, wooden barrel, grabbing a handful of dates. She meant to mix them in with the grains to make bread for a sweet treat, but she had once again gotten lost in a daydream.

Ava began to retell a story in her mind—a story that her mother had told her when Ava had been just a little girl.

"My gem." Ava heard her mother's voice loud and sweet in her memory. "Once upon a time there was a family who wanted for nothing."

"Who were they, Mother?" Ava asked.

"You know them very well." Her mother smiled. "This family had endless riches, Ava, the best of everything, and all of these many treasures came from a mythical red ruby with mystical, magical powers."

"How do you know all this?" Ava asked curiously.

"Oh, my gem, I've seen it! This ruby, it could grant wishes—any wish at all. But one day the ruby was lost.

The riches vanished. The family lost everything. Now they live in a patchy, one-room hut with nothing more than a pole to tether their prized camel."

Ava snapped back to the present. The grains were alone in a copper mixing bowl, the dates having fallen to the floor. Something about this story, this family, this home, Ava could not stop thinking about.

Then it dawned on Ava. What if this wasn't just another bedtime story? What if her mother had been right? What if this place called home wasn't really home at all?

The Trouble with the Truth

* * *

Bread piped hot from the oven, and the scent of warm, freshly cooked dates filled the air. Ava had made a decision to find the red ruby and return it to the rightful place in her family. But now the hard part came—telling her father.

But what would he say? Ava was about to find out, although she wasn't sure she would like his answer. But he was just outside, freshly home from work. He'd just stepped out to water Sandstorm and tend the yard. He'd be back any minute.

Mustering her courage a little at a time, Ava carefully pulled the hot bread from the oven as the doors of their small hut swung open. Ava looked up. There her father stood, framed against the pitch-black night. One lone star twinkled in the distant sky, revealing just a hint of the palace Ava daydreamed about.

Ava's father, Ali, was like all the other Egyptian workers. He labored very long hours and was paid very little for his efforts. He had dark circles under his eyes from working from early morning until late at night. He gave her a gentle smile as he removed a dingy auburn cloth from his suntanned skin. Ava's heart raced as he padded over to sit at the table where Ava was already sitting to enjoy her bread.

Though Ava wanted nothing more than to ask the burning question in her mind, they ate their dinner in silence. She waited for the perfect opportunity to ask the question she was afraid to ask—maybe the most important question of her life.

"Father," Ava blurted out as if the word had been held down by a floodgate, "the stories Mother told—Were they true? You know, the ones about the red ruby?"

"Well, do you believe they are true?" her father answered. "In your heart, Ava, do you believe?"

"I do, Father," Ava replied without needing to think. "That's why I need to ask you something very important." She took a deep breath and let the air out slowly. "Would you permit me to go on a journey to find our ruby?"

Just as Ava had feared, at the mere mention of the ruby her father flinched. "No! Absolutely not, Ava. The ruby is most likely hidden in a very dark cavern. Danger is not made for young girls, and I am not going to lose my only daughter, my greatest treasure, for worldly riches."

Ava searched her father's face. His cheeks were weathered with dirt, his eyes wrinkled and worn with worry. She understood why her father didn't want her to go. It was the same reason she needed to go. Ava didn't want to trade her father for riches either, and that's what she felt like she was doing—every day. She barely saw him since her mother died. He worked endlessly and sacrificed everything he had for her. He worked his life away for the little money they did have.

Her heart felt raw and open. She needed to do this, and she needed to do this now. She swallowed hard and continued. "Please let me go. I swear I will return safely with the ruby!"

Her father grew silent and shut his eyes as if he was deep in thought. "Ava," he replied. His voice was softer somehow as if he had finally realized what this meant to her. "You may go, but you must find a partner to go with you so that I know you won't ever be alone. Most of all, Ava, if you are ever in danger, you must leave the ruby and save yourself. No exceptions."

Ecstatic, she flung her arms around her father's thin neck. Ali smiled a weary smile, but it looked forced somehow. In fact, he looked like all fathers do when their daughters want to go on an adventure—absolutely petrified—because he knew even though she promised to be careful, even though she'd have a friend to guide her ahead, he could never be sure what trouble would follow.

Danger Loves Company

* * *

That night Ava closed her eyes and dreamed of shards of red glass glistening in deep, dark taverns. She tossed and turned for hours, waiting for morning until finally the first hint of sunlight streamed in through the tiny window, landing smack-dab on her forehead.

Ava grabbed a small bag for her journey, tiptoed past her sleeping father, and looked around at her patchy, one-room hut one more time. She only saw one thing she'd miss—and she kissed him good-bye.

"Are you ready for an adventure, Sandstorm?" Ava inquired quietly. Sandstorm just gave Ava a blank stare as if to say, "Well, you know I love adventure! I live for adventure! Point the way to adventure!" At least that's what it sounded like in Ava's mind. Perhaps she needed a little more sleep.

Sandstorm and his eager rider traveled quite a few miles before they came across any sign of life. Most of the small village was still sleeping, and Ava feared they might have to turn back. After all, she had promised her father that she wouldn't go on this journey alone.

But just as she almost lost hope, she spotted a young boy playing by the roadside, kicking a pebble down the street. "Hello," called the boy, who looked to be about Ava's age. "What's your name?"

"It's Ava!" she called, a little too excited to have spotted another human being. Ava composed herself. "What's yours?"

"My name is Mohammad," the boy answered.

"Then good morning, Mohammad!" Ava cried, again a little too eager. Though she was about to try to be a bit more subtle, something entirely different happened. "Actually, it's a great morning—a great morning for an adventure! A wonderful, maybe dangerous adventure!"

Great, Ava, she thought. Now you've scared off your only hope. Maybe she should have said dangerous a little quieter.

"Did you say danger?" the boy asked, raising one of his dark black eyebrows.

"Um, yes," Ava replied nervously. "You see, I'm searching for this ruby. It's magic really. It can grant any wish, and friend, I need a lot of wishes granted. It used to belong to my family. But somehow it got lost, and now we are poor. Things are bad, and I need to get this ruby back something awful."

She looked on waiting as silence fell over the three of them.

Ava held her breath.

Sandstorm blinked.

"Ava?" Mohammad called with a mischievous grin. "You had me dangerous."

Ava Meets Destiny

The midday sun beat down hard on Ava's neck. She couldn't believe that in all her excitement she had forgotten to bring along any water or bread for their journey. The weary travelers had all grown very thirsty and hungry. But it was too late to turn back for those things now. They'd have to journey onward.

The quiet lull of the familiar was gone. The pink lotus flowers that had floated on the river near home were passed, the landscape ever changing from the thick of the juniper trees to the nothingness they had now come to know.

Ava grew even more parched and hungry. Mohammad plopped to the ground, and Sandstorm had indeed earned the sleep that was threatening to fall over his eyes. "Hey, look!" Ava said with relief. "It's pomegranates!" Without another thought, Ava slid down Sandstorm's side and padded up the hill thick with brush all the way to the tippy-tippy top.

The tree hung over the fruit towered overhead. Ava jumped up, grasping anything she could hold, and while she mostly got handfuls of leaves, her efforts were rewarded with a few juicy pomegranates.

"Aha!" she said in a singsong. "I've got lunch!" But as Ava looked up, she noticed that Mohammad looked strange.

"Ava," he said slowly without moving his eyes, "don't turn around and don't make any sudden movements. There's something behind you."

But anytime someone tells you not to look, that's the first thing you do. You look—and look Ava did. What she saw was the cold, hard truth staring her in the face—a jackal just as hungry, just as thirsty as Ava was.

The brown-patched jackal bared his teeth and licked his menacing jaws. Ava could be still no longer. She ran fast and hard toward Sandstorm! The hot Sahara sand filled up the backs of her sandals with every step.

Mohammad reached around his shoulder, pulling an emerald-green dagger from his back. The jackal was still running hard for Ava, and Mohammad was running for it. And with one quick swoop, the jackal fell into the burning sands of nothingness they'd found.

Ava gasped for air. The beast had almost caught her. It really had almost been the last time she would see her patchy, one-room hut. The seriousness of what she was doing was now sinking in and hitting every raw spot inside her on the way down.

Mohammad knelt, studying the slain jackal. Fighting back hot tears, Ava caught her breath and said, "Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I need to go back."

But just then Mohammad lifted something tied messily around the jackal's neck. Everything had happened so suddenly they could have never known or seen. He grasped the chain and pulled firmly. As he did, a small round pendant broke open, revealing a small torn piece of papyrus. Unraveling it, he began to read silently.

"Ava, you're right. This is a sign. But you're wrong about one thing. You can't go back because someone, something ... doesn't want you to find that ruby."

The Future Has Scales

Go away, Ava.

Though she'd read those words a hundred times over in her mind, they were still as world-shattering as the first time. Someone was watching them. Someone knew she was coming. Someone wanted her gone.

"Don't worry," Mohammad said comfortingly. "I am a great hunter. I'm good with a sword. I will protect you. You have my word."

"But this is my battle, my fight, Mohammad," she answered. "I got you into this mess, and I don't want to get you killed. If you need to turn back ... I understand."

"No," he replied. "I wanted to come. You have no idea how hard it is to find good, true friends. I've had more fun with you on this one-day journey than I've ever had in my whole life. I mean, you sit around reading stories about adventure, but you never dream you'll have one. Ava ... you are a walking adventure, and our destinies are intertwined. I am proud to journey with you."

Ava reached for Mohammad's hand. "I'm proud to journey with you too. I can't imagine why it would be hard for you to make friends. You are a great friend to have. Their loss, Mohammad."

"Thanks," he said, blushing just a little and then changing the subject. "Um, so ... now we know we are on the right track. Where to from here, Captain Ava?"

Captain. Ava liked the sound of that. She'd never been anyone important before—at least any kind of important where she felt like she had the power to change things.

Feeling an extra burst of something she could only describe as new courage, she pulled a slender, weathered scroll from her bag and unwound the tiny strip of leather that bound it.

"This is my grandfather's map," she said. "My father has kept it for many years and hid it away in a safe place. In fact, this is the very first time I've ever seen it opened."

"Can I have a look?" Mohammad inquired.

"Sure." Ava didn't quite understand this map anyway. So she passed it over in anticipation and bit her lip as if in deep thought.

"Okay," Mohammad said, pointing to the papyrus, "so we are right here ... and ... and ... wow, that's seriously weird, Ava. This is the Egyptian symbol for jackal, and it's right at this very pomegranate tree. Do you see it?"

A part of Ava had hoped that Mohammad was seeing things, but the more she looked, the more what he was saying made no sense and somehow also made perfect sense all at once.

Ava felt sick. Not only were angry desert dogs lying in wait for her, carrying ominous messages around their necks, but now the whole ordeal was somehow prophesied on an old worn-out map.

This was just too much to handle at once. What was worse was that there were even more symbols ahead of them. Strange drawings paved the way for miles and miles, marking what Ava could only imagine would be incredibly scary.

Noticing her reservation, Mohammad looked at her and shared what was on his mind. "Ava, I think we are supposed to follow these symbols. There are quite a few, but if we can press onward, I think they will lead us right to what we are looking for. You know, nothing worth doing is ever easy. In fact, most things worthwhile can be scary."