Chapter Twelve
Leaving his family beside the river, Armaghan took Jack and two camels to the north. Although Armaghan did not appear to move quickly, he covered the ground at a steady pace with the camels long-striding at his side.
Jack walked with the second camel, trying to follow their route by the stars. Even when the light grew, he was not sufficiently familiar with this area of Afghanistan to identify the hills.
“You know Afghanistan well,” Jack said after a long day of constant movement. They made camp a hundred yards from the banks of a furious stream, with a herd of markhor goats watching them, great horns twisted and shaggy coats looking uncomfortable. The hills frowned all around, stark in the dying light, yet with a rare beauty Jack had never appreciated before.
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