Karim was twelve, and he was crossing the desert with his grandfather Idris, an old guide who knew every dune, and four camels. On the first day Idris said, "The wind draws on the sand. Keep the wind on your left cheek, and you will walk to the water." Karim was tired, and he only half listened.
On the second day the sky in the north turned brown. "A sandstorm," said Idris. "Cover your face." The wind roared, and the sand hid the sun. Idris had been ill with fever for two days, and now he slid from his camel, too weak to sit up. "Karim," he whispered, "you must lead us. You cannot see the stars. Read the sand."
Karim was terrified. But he tied the four camels in a line, helped his grandfather onto the first one and tied him on with a scarf. Then he walked. All night he kept the wind on his left cheek and watched the ripples in the sand at his feet. Whenever his courage failed, he counted his steps, and he did not stop.
Before dawn the wind dropped, and the sky cleared. In the first light Karim saw the green tops of palm trees: the oasis! Women at the well gave them water. Idris opened his eyes. "Who taught you to walk in a storm?" he asked. "You did, Grandfather," said Karim. "You said I never listened. I listened."
