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Ali never told Lawrence that he saw the djinn stalking, tall and thin, behind them. He unfocused his eyes when he looked back, did not acknowledge the sharp edged grin. If he spurred the camels to a run and left it behind it was waiting for them at evening. It was dangerous to admit one saw such a thing, more dangerous still to be tempted to conversation.
"He is mine, Son of Man," it said, voice hissing like a flame.
He is not, Ali thought.
He would not speak to it. He would not.
Even though it spoke the truth.