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"Hunger is a heavy companion," Zaid admitted, touching the stone tied to his stomach to dull the cramps. "But the song of the Prophet gives us strength."

The wind howled across the plains of Medina, carrying with it the dust of ten thousand marching feet. Inside the city, the air was thick with the scent of freshly turned earth and the rhythmic clink-clink-clink of pickaxes hitting stone.

Zaid wiped the sweat from his brow, his hands blistered from weeks of digging. He looked at the massive trench—an idea brought by Salman the Persian that had baffled the tribal leaders of Arabia. Beyond that ditch lay the (the Confederates), a massive alliance of tribes intent on ending their way of life.