Something was wrong, Gul Naar thought. Her dolls were moving. They had turned into living things. They were laughing and talking to each other. Even her favourite doll Batur, with his thick black moustache, was giggling as his tiny hands continued to grip his metal sword that was hanging from his shoulder. And then there was Gul Naar herself. She was singing as her friend Speena was playing daf. They both looked so happy as if nothing unusual was happening around them. Something does not look right.
As Speena was hitting the daf with her small, skinny hands, Gul Naar switched from one song to another. For the moment she decided to ignore the unusual things that were happening around them. This is so good. I have never been this happy, she thought.
She switched to another song. As she did, she heard a strange sound; a sound that she had never heard before. She looked over Speena's shoulder in the direction the sound was coming from. Her heart started throbbing when she saw a pack of wolves with their white fangs glimmering in the sun as they climbed down the tall mud walls of Gul Naar's house. She stopped singing, but Speena continued playing and the dolls continued laughing. She started screaming, but nobody could hear her. She tried to scream louder but she couldn't. She felt like someone was choking her. She gasped for air. She screamed again.
Speena was still playing and the dolls were laughing and giggling. She looked at Batur, he was still giggling and his eyes were closed. The wolves were now approaching them, roaring angrily. She could count them now. There were four of them; two black, one white, and the fourth one was grey. Their fur looked soft and fluffy and their wild eyes orange like small balls of burning fire, all eight of them fixed at Gul Naar.