Ali Baba had completely forgotten that feeling.
Creeping around the dark corners. Tiptoeing and straining one's senses.
When was the last time he tried to sneak somewhere?
Was that a good or a bad sign?
He pushed the infirmary's door open ever so slightly and peeked inside with one eye, noting Zarqa and Jaber's positions.
With light steps, he made for the girl's bed, holding his breath as if it would wake Jaber, whose head leaned on one hand over the stand, presumably asleep.
When he reached the girl's side and Jaber didn't stir, Ali Baba considered it an accomplishment.
Back in the slums, he could even sneak on rats; however, he was never sure when it came to the sharp man beside him.
Jaber had been shaped by harsher circumstances; he had learned.
He had to admit that his success was partially because the man was exhausted. From up close, he could see the dark circles beneath his eyes.
