Tirzah

Knives flashed in the sunlight, and bundles of cut grasses lay along the Nile marsh. Twelve—year—old Tirzah and her younger brother, Oren, headed for thicket of grass out of sight of the others at work.

Oren reached for a clump of reeds and froze. From the thicket above his head, two dark eyes stared at him. he swung around to grab his crutch and gasped as a man stood up, parting the reeds in front of him.

Trizah whirled to face them, a handful of grass in her hand. "what do you want?" Tirzah asked, her heart beating fast.

"Nothing. Nothing more than to get out of here in one piece,"he said.

From the ground where he still knelt, Oren held his wooden crutch like a shepherd's staff, ready to swing."You're the one the Medjay were after, aren't you?"