The Last Journey of Harith,part,14

The first cool winds of winter came quietly.They moved across the Arabian desert before sunrise, bringing the smell of rain that might never reach Narala.Date palms murmured softly above the oasis, and the city's towers shimmered with the glow of the first light of day.Harith stood on the eastern watchtower, as he had done countless times before.But this time, the climb needed more patience.His hands stayed longer on the stone railing.His breathing was slower.The years had not worn him down.Instead, they had asked him to move with more care.Below, Narala woke as it always had.Merchants opened their shops.Water keepers checked the city's channels.Children raced toward neighborhood libraries, carrying wooden writing tablets under their arms.Caravans entered through the southern gate, while others left for faraway