Chapter I.  Mass escape

He could hardly taste it, and for some reason that he did not understand, he spat part of it out of his mouth. As soon as he heard his voice growling from a distance, “here you are, you bothersome boys, stop!” till the taste of the berries on his tongue turned like the Zaqqum, he fell off the tree. He slowed down behind two lads who were lighter and faster runners than he was, sprinting at the speed of the wind. The voice’s owner was an elderly man in his seventies, but it was impossible for him to catch them as they fled.

He didn’t dare to look back, he felt the old man’s hand on his shoulder with every step, the boys’ voices urging him to hurry. Out of their heedlessness he suddenly stopped, stuck in his place, something crossed his mind, an idea flashed in his head, he turned back, he shouted at the top of his voice:

-You old man, why do you forbid us from eating its fruits when it is our tree and grows on our land?