After eating and sharing the small story by the fire, Habeel quietly put out the flames, the smoke curling into the night sky like a whispered promise of safety. He moved with careful precision, shifting crates in the back of the truck to make a small enclave for Ababeel and Janneh. Even in the chaos around them, Habeel's rules remained firm—no one would intrude, no one would cross boundaries without purpose. He built a barrier of crates and blankets so that when he lay down for his own watch, we would be invisible, tucked away like treasures he was determined to protect. I respected it silently, understanding his way of keeping control when the world seemed determined to unravel.
I climbed into the small space he had crafted, Janneh curling against me as I slipped into exhaustion almost immediately. Sleep pulled me under like a tide. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the storm rolled over us with a loud clap of thunder. Janneh stirred, her small hands shaking, fear seeping from her body. Too tired to move, I watched through hazy eyes as she scrambled toward Habeel.
At first, he startled, blinking awake, but then comprehension softened his features. Janneh shoved herself into his arms, hiding her face against his chest. Habeel's hands settled gently on her back, his voice a low whisper against the rain and the storm.
"It's okay… It's just rain. Nothing to be afraid of," he murmured. "I am here. I will not let anyone in."
The sound of his voice, steady and warm, made even my heart slow. In that moment, safety felt tangible, anchored by the quiet steadfastness of a man who still believed in his own sense of honour.
By morning, sunlight filtered softly through the clouds. Habeel's head rested against the wall, Janneh still clinging to him, sleeping as though nothing in the world could harm her while he remained there. I slipped quietly from the truck, careful not to disturb him, and climbed to a vantage point on the hillside. Below, the distant noise of a busy scene drifted up—voices, shouting, the murmur of organised chaos, like a wholesale market. Relief stirred briefly in me.
"Foreign countries are helping," I whispered, hopeful. "Maybe… maybe they can help us too."
Habeel appeared behind me, hair messy, neck aching as he rubbed the soreness, his gaze fixed on the scene below.
"Foreign donations?" he muttered, sceptical. "Hmmph… seems like they want to help, but…" His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.
I followed his gaze, noticing the enclosures, the people packed together like livestock. "Yeah… why is our people inside the cage thing?" I asked, unease creeping into my voice.
Habeel's nod was slow, his expression tightening. "Like sheep being rounded up."
Before I could respond, his hands moved to cover my eyes, turning me gently back toward the truck.
Gunshots erupted from below. The cracks of metal meeting flesh and the panicked screams filtered up the hill. Habeel released my face, letting me take in the scene, the terror stark against the pale dawn.
"We are… sheep to them?!" I whispered, my voice trembling.
Habeel's jaw tightened, eyes darkening. "To round up… and slaughter," he said, his tone grim and unyielding.
The wind carried the distant shouts and the echo of bullets, and for the first time, the full weight of what lay ahead pressed down on all three of us—Habeel, Janneh, and me. The hillside felt colder, the shadows longer, and the world suddenly smaller, harsher, and impossibly cruel.