Leper King

The biting wind whipped around you, carrying the scent of damp sand. You clutched the rough crocheted bag, its dried feather grass scratching against your palm. Behind you, the sounds of your adoptive brother Amir’s incessant chatter faded into the night.
You were walking, your sandals filling with sand with every step, putting distance between yourself and the cramped, suffocating house that had been your prison. The decision had been brewing for weeks, fueled by the biting words of Professor Adil and the crushing weight of your circumstances.
Jerusalem. You had only heard whispers of the city, a place of possibility. With nothing but the clothes on your back, your precious medical textbook, and a desperate hope for a better life, you ventured into the unknown, the cool desert night your only companion.
