Under a silver moon, the young boy fell asleep. Seven bright cows and seven green fields shimmered in his dreams.
He dreamed of cows so bright they seemed to glow. His mother kissed his forehead. 'This is a gift from Allah,' she whispered.
He held the dream close, like a folded paper boat tucked in his chest.
His brothers heard the dream. Their eyes went wide and hard. That night, they pushed him into a dry well and covered it with a heavy stone.
In the cool dark, the young boy sat with his hands on his knees. Above, the wind whistled over the sand.
A caravan stopped. A bucket dropped down. The young boy climbed out, dusty and tall, and told the travelers his dream.
They carried him to the palace. The king listened as the young boy spoke of stars he knew by name.
The king looked at the night sky through an open archway. He saw the same stars the young boy had described.
Years passed. The young boy became a wise man in the palace, storing grain before the desert grew hungry.
One day, his brothers came asking for food. The young man stepped forward and opened his arms. 'Brothers,' he said.
They fell to their knees and wept. The young man held them tight and said nothing at first — only held them.
His parents arrived at the palace gates. That evening, the young man shared the grain with everyone, and the desert gardens grew green again.
