Runa trudged her way to the top of a dune. Sweat poured down her face and neck and her hair was plastered to her forehead beneath the keffiyeh she wore.

At the top of the dune, the wind kicked up. Runa adjusted the keffiyeh to ensure the piece across her face wouldn’t come undone. She didn’t have much experience wearing the garment but she found she liked it.

As a Yeniczar, she owned one, but that was more ceremonial and had been left neglected in her room in ...