Beneath the stars, on a stony beach, stand two brothers. They are wearing lifejackets that are too big for them and their most precious belongings are sealed in waterproof bags tucked inside the rucksacks on their backs. Turkey is behind them. Two or three kilometres’ swim away is the Greek island of Samos, now only a smudge in the moonlight. Their feet are blistered from walking, their energy is failing. They wade forward into the Aegean Sea and count one, two, three. This is the story of what happens next. This is the story of Mohammed and Zain. Brothers. Sons. Refugees.