At the village edge, the Meddad forest whispered beyond the grass. A buzzing drone swooped low and dropped a tiny bundle beside Siham’s path. Siham raced toward the crying sound as the drone flashed its amber light and zipped away.
The bundle held a crying infant, wrapped in a soft blanket. Siham lifted the baby and found a little tag tied to the cloth. It read, “Yaqouta.” The drone gave one startled beep, then vanished beyond the treetops.
Siham carried Yaqouta toward the village. Thorny branches snagged the blanket, and the baby cried louder. Siham freed the cloth with careful fingers and whispered, “I’ve got you.” Through the olive trees, a distant family voice called again and again.
At home, the kettle began to whistle. Siham’s family gathered around the baby while Siham opened a small wooden box. Inside lay an old photograph tied with a white ribbon. On the photograph, a tiny birthmark matched Yaqouta’s exactly.
The kettle shrieked, “Peeeeep!” Everyone stared from the photograph to the baby. Long ago, Yaqouta had been separated from the family. Now the name, the birthmark, and the little face belonged together. Siham thought, “Her family is calling from the forest.”
Siham ran back toward the forest with the photograph held high. Behind her, Yaqouta’s family followed the scattered white ribbons dropped along the path. The ribbons fluttered over stones, roots, and grass, pointing toward the voices beneath the olive trees.
At the forest edge, Yaqouta reached toward a familiar voice. Siham called, “Yaqouta!” The family rushed forward beneath the buzzing drone, whose rotors spun above the branches. For one quiet moment, everyone stood together beneath the white ribbons.
Siham placed Yaqouta into the family’s waiting arms. Then she tied the photograph’s ribbon around the baby’s blanket. The ribbon rested beside the name tag, fluttering softly as everyone gathered close beneath the olive trees.