The night was dreadfully hot in the tiny village of Sahneh on the road from Teheran to Baghdad and Damascus. Around the solitary gasoline station and several inns, truck-driver counterparts of Scheherezade's cameleers slept in the open, and townspeople flung wide their doors. About i a.m. a gaunt wolf swept down from the mountains like an Assyrian on the fold and attacked sleeping Sahneh. The beast loped lightly over the low mud walls and slashed at sleeping villagers around the scattered huts on the out skirts. The wolf went for the head, as is...
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