"Our journey be a swift one!" Layla raises her mug and toasts as well.

If Rana dances, and everyone keeps drinking at this rate, the whole camp's going to be hung over come morning. She should probably stop after this toast. 

Still, she drinks. A second mug of wine won't kill her.

Everyone takes a deep draught of their own mugs a beat behind their caravan leader. 

Hayat leans against Fahim's side and snuggles up against his body, her eyes closing for a moment with her mug of wine still in her lap. Her body feels soft and loose, and the warmth of the fire is lulling.

"It has been a long week's travel," she says. "I'll be more than glad to make Tephu. New clothes, fresher food, a bed to sleep in. You wouldn't want to stay there, but a rest is nice now and again." 

"Don't go falling asleep now; it won't be long until Rana dances." She sets down her mug of wine and keeps working on her koshari, spooning more and more into her mouth.

Munir collects the empty bowls, and starts washing them out onto a patch of sand with the help of Fayruz and a vessel of water left behind by Rana. 

Layla finishes her own koshari and hands over her bowl, then lays back on her hands and stares up at her familiar companions, the stars. They're just coming out to the brightness others can see.

She doesn't know the names of many of the constellations, but the stars are still familiar to her. She can pick out the Fang, that old traveler's charm, and the north star, Cynosure, where the great spirit Desna makes her home. But the rest are old friends with no names.

A few minutes later, Yasmin returns from her tent, all dressed in her dancer's loose skirt and midriff-baring top. She ducks her head and blushes as she fiddles with one of the bangles on her wrist. She looks anywhere but at Munir.

Munir's gaze flicks over to Yasmin and takes her in for a long moment before he looks away. He doesn't blush, but he does take another small drink of his wine.

A few minutes later, Rana ducks out of her tent, all dressed in her fine silk costume with its copper bangles. She steps out across the desert sand, one two three steps, then swirls her hips and tosses her arms above her head. 

"Come," she says, beckoning to Yasmin. "Come and dance with me!" She doesn't pause, but continues her dance, sashaying across the sands to take a closer position to the fire, across from where Fayruz is washing bowls. "Come, now, you know you can do it!" 

Rana's cheeks are deeply flushed, and there's a languid grace to her movements that Layla knows her sister only gets when she's more than slightly tipsy.

Yasmin gets up from the fire, and advances hesitantly - then throws herself into the motions as well, her arms coming up above her head as she copies Rana's moves. She has no little skill herself; her steps are smooth, fluid, and the motions show off her body well. The bangles on her chest and hips rattle as she sways and undulates. 

Rana's clearly angling to get Yasmin into bed with Munir, but that's a worthy enough goal. And getting to see her sister dance like this is no small bribe. 

Layla leans back and grins and takes another drink of her wine. "More! Faster!" She starts to clap against the side of her mug in a steady rhythm.

Munir is the first to take up the clapping, his gaze fixed on Yasmin as he sees a whole new side of her. This girl is confident, self-assured, beautiful. Nothing like the blushy mess that's been at the fireside all tonight. 

Fahim takes up the clapping as well. "Go on, show us what you can really do!"

Hayat claps along as well, still snuggled against Fahim. Her gaze flicks back and forth between Munir and Yasmin, then settles more firmly on the performance.

Fayruz keeps scrubbing her bowls, but raises her voice instead. She has the best voice in camp, though she's no professional, and she knows all the old songs. This one is mostly in an old language, learnt by heart rather than by meaning; she belts it out nonetheless, her voice steady but not afraid to sway with the dancers' movements. 

Rana starts throwing in more exaggerated movements, long leaps and rolls of her hips, feeling the music and the steady beat. She leads Yasmin easily through the performance, cueing her smoothly even in her half-inebriated state. She sways and sashays as her bangles jangle to the beat. 

Yasmin's not quite as skilled as Rana, but keeps up gamely nonetheless, throwing her body into the motion. The rhythm infects her, fills her up with heat and motion and excitement. It's a thrill to show off like this.

Layla watches and claps along, faster and faster, driving her sister to ever higher heights of improvisation. It's a joy to watch her work her magic. 

She's having thoughts. Those undulating motions of Rana's body are deeply distracting. 

Got you.

Rana drives the performance faster and faster, until Yasmin can't keep up; and then she does one last elaborate twirl and ends in a deep bow that gives everyone at the campsite a deep view of her cleavage. 

Then she steps to the side and gestures to Yasmin. "Yasmin, our newest dancer, everyone!" She grins. 

No-one is quicker to applaud than Munir, though the whole campsite joins in.

Yasmin feels... kind of powerful. Kind of strong. Kind of hot, actually. 

She sashays over to the campfire, plops herself down in Munir's lap, and kisses him.

He's taken aback, but of course he kisses back.

If anything, the applause only gets louder.

"Well done Yasmin!", Hayat calls.

Naila just watches and smiles to herself. It's fun to watch Rana in action.