The desert of Morocco isn't the traditional view of the desert - rolling dunes and windblown sand. The sand is packed more tightly and there is some vegetation. It's not good to eat, but it keeps the sand anchored so the wind can't fling it in your face.

Across one of the last true wilderness's of the world - the desert lands, a little girl trudged, searching vainly for a path. She was dressed in the traditional scarf and robe of Muslim countries. She was tiny - three years old, tops. And yet there was still nobody in sight. The sweat ran down her face as she searched vainly for a hiding place. Finally she caught sight of a bush big enough and strong enough, with enough grass-type vegetation surrounding it, that she knew there had to be water at its roots. Taking a stone comb from her thin black hair, she dug into the roots, searching for the life-giving moisture.

Soon her arms grew tired and the teeth fell off the comb. Having nothing else to dig with, she almost despaired of ever returning to her home. Her throat crying out for liquid, she tore a root off the bush, to suck out the water-filled center.

It was 5 days before they found her, slumped in the shade of the gnarled, broken bush, still gnawing on the root. The copter lifted her to the embassy hospital, where the doctors worked for 2 days to rehydrate her and heal the burned and blistered skin on the bottom of her feet.

On the third day, she woke, the curtain of her long sleep lifted slowly, hazily. The world finally cleared enough that she could see her parents and her older brother standing about her bed.

"Betha, we're so glad your safe at home. We were SO worried! Why did you go out into the desert alone? You know you aren't allowed even in the medina without an adult there!", exclaimed her mother, one of the American diplomats to Morocco.

"Sweetheart, we know you didn't mean to get lost, but you have to take precautions about these things! The whole embassy was in an uproar! And of course there were rumors that you had been kidnaped, or killed by terrorists, or any number of other horrible things. Morocco is not a safer country right now!", said her father, a large man who worked as an international relations lawyer in the embassy.

All through this Luka, Elizabeth's older brother, had remained silent, sitting in the corner and smiling in the general direction of her hospital bed.

"But Mummy! I didn't get lost! I didn't even go to the medina alone!" she protested, sitting up in her bed. A bright red flush crept up on her cheeks.

Without a word, Sasha Milefsky (her father) leaned over her bed and tapped the bracelet on her right wrist. It was a small silver bracelet inset with small blue stones, with The Hand of Fatima clasped on the top.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "No Milefsky was ever a liar."

Elizabeth turned an even brighter red, and shouted, "I'm NOT lying! Luka took me out to the Medina to buy it, because he knew that I saw it earlier and wanted it!"

All the heads in the room swivelled to Luka, who looked up as though he hadn't been paying attention before. "What?"

"Did you take Betha into the Medina, Luka?", Katherine said softly.

"No, Mom, I swear I didn't. Do you think I would just lose her like that and not say anything?" he protested in disbelief.

"Of course not, Katherine! What were you thinking? The only person at fault for Betha's actions are Betha herself. Even if Luka did take her into the medina, she is still at fault for wandering out into the desert! There is no excuse for anything like that. Not even for your precious little Betha." exclaimed Sasha.

"I'm not lying and after Luka took me to the medina he took me out to the desert and pushed me out of the car! And will you at least stop calling me Betha! It's a stupid baby name. My friends call me Sarah," she said, getting very angry. She blinked back her tears defiantly.

At that moment an aide from the embassy walked in. Sensing the tension in the room, she half backed about before remembering what it was she came for. She cleared her throat.

All eyes in the room turned accusingly on her.

"Um . . Ms. . uh . . Milefsky? The uh . .King Hassad, he . . he heard that your daughter was better and he wanted to uh . . to send his congratulations," the aide stammered out in imperfect stark.

"Merci," said Katherine, noting immediately that the aide was a native French speaker, "Ecrivez a le roi et dites que nous sommes tr�s joyeux � cause du rentr�e de ma fille, et nous le remericions le roi pour son inter�t dans ces mati�res," she rattled off.

Turning to her family, she said, "I have to go now and clear away the rumors that Elizabeth had been kidnaped. I'll go in the embassy car."

Sarah protested slightly, "I want to go by my middle name. I'm not Elizabeth, I'm Sarah."

Fixing his daughter with an ice-cold stare, Sasha stood up and spoke. "I should probably go as well. I'll ride with you, Katherine."

"Very well. Luka, here are the keys to the jeep." She dug into her handbag and threw a handful of keys linked by numerous keychains to her son. "Be Careful."

"I will, Mom, promise." said Luka, with a glint in his eye.

Sarah feigned sleep until both her parents and the aide were safely out of the room and down the hall. Then she sat straight up in bed and glared at her brother. He looked back smugly.

"Dad said that no Milefsky was ever a liar. I guess that makes you not a Milefsky, huh?" She spat the words out at him.

"I'm more my Father's child then you'll ever be, Lizard."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I mean that your mother, that French witch, isn't as true to my Father as my mother was." he said casually.

"I may be just a little kid, Luka, but I'm not stupid. I know what your saying and you shouldn't talk about your parents that way."

"Oh. Little lizard's going to stand up for mummy now, is she?"

"My name is Sarah."

"More like Sahara, the little worm of the desert. More at home in the middle of nowhere then with civilized people." He seemed rather proud of himself for making this clever pun.

"You're not funny, Luka. And why don't you tell the truth for a change?" The red flush was creeping back up on her already high-colored face.

"The truth? Truth is for people without enough brains to know when to lie."

"The truth, Luka, is that you left me in the desert without any water and then drove away! And you were laughing! I could see you in the mirror," Sarah screamed in total frustration.

"The truth is elusive, Sahara. I bet while you were out there enough sand got in your monitor that it broke, and now not even your military friends can come and help you." He reached out and grabbed the back of her head, forcing her face forward at an awkward angle so he could examine the back of her neck, where a small red light poked out of a suture in the flesh. It was not lit up. He smacked the back of her neck, hard. She yelled in pain. The light flickered once, twice, and went out again.

"Stop it Luka! Just because you couldn't make in the IF doesn't mean that gives you a right to ruin my chances."

"It gives me every right, Lizard, Monitor-Girl, Sahara, MORON. I didn't want to come home in the first place, much less find a new mom and her two year old brat. And if you actually get all the way through command, how's that going to make me look?" he said, holding her head between his two hands and squeezing just tightly enough to hurt.

She wrestled out of his grasp and hit the nurses buzzer. Just before the nurse arrived she declared triumphantly, "It's make you look just like what you are. A loser."

As the nurse entered, the twisted, angry look on his face dissolved immediately into a benevolent smile. He winked at her, took the keys, and left, whistling a jaunty tune.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" asked the nurse, smoothing the hair off her forehead.

"Does that camera record with sound?" she asked pointing at a black security camera in the upper left corner of the room.

"Yes, it does, Elizabeth. This is one of the best hospitals in all of northern Africa. We have all the security and the technology anyone could ever need." replied the nurse.

"Good. I want a copy of what it's taped for the last thirty minutes. Can I have that?" she said, looking at the nurse in the cutest face she could possibly conjure up.

"Why do you want it?" The nurse asked suspiciously, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, it's just that my family was so nice to me today and I don't think they've ever been that nice to me before and I want to remember it." she voiced sweetly.

The nurse's craggy face broke into a smile. "Sure sweetheart, I'll get that for you right now, as a matter of fact."

"Thanks a lot. You're the nicest nurse ever." she said, feigning a yawn and snuggling down into her blankets.

Minutes later, when she had the tape in her hands, she knew that wherever her life went from now on, she could control it. Herself. Alone.

Segment 2 coming soon . . .