Author’s note — March 2026

Elena is in Tichit. Mauritanian desert, vernacular stone, date palms, the Tagant Plateau at her back.

She was kidnapped. Before that: her loyal sentinel and companion, Karim broke his Makhrûh for her — a sacred prohibition, not broken lightly.

She was rescued by wolves, one of whom she shared the night with (Asdar in human form!).

There is a Marabout here, and a library that shouldn’t exist in a village this size, and both of them know more than they’re saying.

Now treacherousTarmo is circling somewhere on the geopolitical horizon and she can feel it like weather.

She’s restless. Probably overconfident. I can feel that too. The universe has its own momentum this morning.

I.Ph.