Linda and Clara stood at the center of a deserted street, their backs almost touching as they surveyed both ends of the road. Men dressed in black kaftans stood silently on either side, crimson scarves concealing everything below their eyes. Heavy gold necklaces, rings, and bracelets glittered beneath the afternoon sun, each piece looking more like a trophy than an ornament. Curved scimitars rested comfortably in their hands, their sharpened edges reflecting streaks of light that made them appear stained with blood.
Every escape route had been sealed.
The streets surrounding them had emptied long before the confrontation truly began. Wooden doors remained tightly shut while curtains shifted ever so slightly as frightened residents watched through narrow openings. Nobody dared intervene. Everyone living in this district recognized the men surrounding the two women.
The Blood Dunes.
