Habeel's voice cracked through the cold air, raw and desperate.
"WE ARE NOT THE ENEMIES!"
He tore the enemy soldier's jacket off his back and flung it onto the dirt. The fabric slapped the ground with a heavy thud.
"I assure you—we're some of your missing civilians."
Behind him, a tiny head peeked out. Janneh's wide eyes glimmered with fear as she clutched the back of his shirt. Habeel instinctively pushed her behind him again, shielding her with his body.
A soldier stepped forward, boots crunching on gravel.
"What's your name?"
Habeel lifted his chin. "Habeel."
The soldiers exchanged glances, their expressions shifting—recognition, surprise, maybe even relief.
"We know who you are," one said. "Do you have weapons?"
"Yes," Habeel replied, jaw tight.
"Throw them to the ground. Like that jacket."
Habeel tossed his knife out first, the blade glinting before it landed in the dust. He turned to Ababeel. Their eyes met—hers hesitant, his urging. Slowly, reluctantly, she removed the gun and dropped it beside the knife.
Then Janneh stepped forward.
From her tiny pockets, she pulled out two smooth rocks—her 'weapons,' her brave little defence—and placed them gently beside the others.
Habeel sighed, a mix of disappointment and tenderness softening his features.
"That's all we had."
The soldier nodded. "Alright. You may enter. But you don't leave the designated camp until we confirm information about your homes. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
Habeel took Janneh's hand—her small fingers curling trustingly around his—and stepped forward. Ababeel followed, tension still wound tight in her shoulders.
Inside the makeshift barrier, a soldier approached with a friendlier face.
"I'm Sulaiman," he said, leaning down to Janneh with a squinting, playful expression. "You'll need to register your names and details. Helps us locate your families."
Habeel hesitated.
"But… there's an issue."
Sulaiman straightened. "What issue?"
"You see this girl—" Habeel glanced down at Janneh, who pressed closer to him. "She's traumatised. Barely speaks. We don't even know her real name. She said her parents are dead. We found her alone in the jungle. If my family is alive… can she stay with me? With us?"
Sulaiman scratched the back of his neck. "We can… hmmph… discuss that later."
They filled the forms, scribbling fragments of what they remembered onto thin paper. Afterwards, they were shown to a tent—canvas walls flapping with the wind, the faint murmurs of other displaced families humming in the background.
Inside, Habeel sat cross-legged on the thin mat. A photograph rested in his hand—edges worn, faces half-faded but full of warmth. His thumb brushed over the image as if trying to bring it back to life.
Janneh sat across from him, hugging her rabbit plushie.
Habeel looked up, his voice soft but trembling with emotion.
"Would you like to go with me, Janneh? If… if they're still alive?"
Her small fingers tightened around the plushie. She didn't speak—not with words.
But she nodded.
A tiny, fragile nod that carried the weight of her whole little world.
Habeel reached out, his voice trembling but gentle as he held up the worn photograph.
"If you go with me…You see, these are my brothers."
He pointed to each face with soft pride. "But if they hurt you or even annoy you—" his tone turned dramatic, protective, "I will punish them, okay?"
Ababeel let out a small chuckle, the first breath of ease in a long time. She lay back on the sleeping bag.
"Come on, Janneh… time for bed."
For the first time in days, sleep came easily. No thundering footsteps. No running for their lives. Just the quiet hum of a guarded camp and the warmth of thin blankets they didn't have to clutch while shivering in the dark.
Sometime in the night, Janneh slipped from her own sleeping bag and curled up beside Habeel.
His arm moved instinctively, draping over her tiny shoulders as if he'd been doing it all her life. His breath evened out, soft and protective.
Ababeel watched them for a moment—his jaw relaxed, hers tucked into the crook of his arm—and felt her tense heart settle. Janneh was safe. Safe and close. That was enough to let her drift back into sleep.
When she woke, sunlight had shifted across the tent. Afternoon.
She sat up abruptly, blinking away the grogginess.
Janneh's sleeping bag was empty.
Her heart lurched.
She searched the entire tent, then every corner of the camp—behind crates, near the well, even the kitchens. Nothing.
Panic clawed up her throat.
She ran back to the tent. Habeel was still curled on his side, one arm bent protectively as if Janneh were still there. He snored softly.
She dropped to her knees beside him and shook him.
"Habeel!"
He grumbled and rolled the other way.
She shook him again, voice breaking.
"Habeel—where is Janneh?"
Eyes still half-closed, he patted the space next to him… expecting to feel her.
His hand met empty fabric.
He froze.
Then he jolted upright, panic flooding his face instantly.
"Where!?"
They tore through the camp together. Every tent, every checkpoint, every hiding place. Sulaiman gave them twenty minutes.
"After that," he warned, "I won't be able to help you. Orders."
They ran as if their lungs were collapsing. And then—outside the camp, near an abandoned building—Ababeel saw her.
Little Janneh.
Kneeling in the grass.
Collecting flowers.
Her small hands carefully chose each one.
Ababeel's eyes softened. Relief flooded her. She stepped forward—
Then voices. Deep, sharp, approaching from behind the building.
Enemy soldiers.
Janneh stood up fast, clutching a rock in her tiny palm like she knew exactly who they were.
Ababeel moved to run—
Habeel grabbed her from behind, dragged her back behind the broken wall, and clamped a hand over her mouth.
She struggled, nails digging into his wrist—but she could feel he was shaking too.
He leaned close, breath trembling against her ear.
"I know where they take the children," he whispered.
"We'll bring her back. Okay? I promise."
Her resistance melted.
"But if you go now," he whispered harshly, "they'll put you somewhere much worse."
She nodded miserably.
"I will bring her—"
A gunshot split the air.
Her body went rigid. Her scream tore out—but his hand muffled it. His grip tightened until the enemy truck rolled away, tyres grinding over gravel, fading into the distance.
Habeel's body buckled against her.
His breath hitched painfully, as something inside him had shattered.
A warm tear hit her shoulder. Then another.
His grip loosened.
She ran.
She stumbled over weeds and broken bricks until she reached the clearing—
Nothing.
Just silence.
A few rocks—maybe the ones from her pocket—scattered in the dirt.
The rabbit plushie Habeel had stitched, now stained with blood.
And the flowers Janneh had picked… petals drifting away on the wind.
Ababeel collapsed, hugging the plushie, clutching the rocks like they were pieces of Janneh's heartbeat. Her sobs shook her whole body.
Behind her, Habeel sank to his knees.
And then he prostrated.
Forehead pressed to the dirt.
His fists slammed into the ground—again and again—until blood darkened his knuckles. His scream ripped from somewhere so deep it didn't sound human. A sound of a man truly breaking.
Later, in a dim therapy room, Ababeel would tell it plainly:
"He cried like a baby when he worried about losing his family. But he never screamed. Not once.
But for her?
For that little girl?
He screamed."
After that scream, Habeel changed.
He stood up, bloody hands trembling. He walked to her, eyes red and destroyed. He snatched the plushie, hugged it to his chest, and marched straight toward the commander's tent.
Sulaiman tried to stop him. Failed.
Commander Ahmed looked up from his maps, raising one brow.
"How can we—… You are not allowed here."
Habeel slammed the plushie on the table.
"I KNOW THE PLACE THEY KEEP OUR CHILDREN."
Ahmed slid a paper forward.
"Write the address. We'll investigate."
Habeel's breath cracked.
"I don't know the name of the place."
"Then we can't help."
"I can show you."
"We cannot take civilians on missions. And your father has been nagging us since day one. You're being sent home."
Rage lit behind Habeel's eyes.
He stepped closer, pointing a shaking finger right at the commander's face—something no sane man would dare.
"If you ever did your job right," he growled, "we wouldn't have suffered for a month. We starved. We were bombed. Shot at. And you still call us civilians."
Ahmed stood up sharply.
"We didn't want this either. Do you know how many of my men die trying to protect sorry asses like yours?"
"Where were you when we needed you?" Habeel snapped.
"You couldn't even protect a child who ran from your safe camp—only to be shot!"
He shoved the bloodied rabbit forward.
Ahmed pushed him back.
"You said she was in your care. We both failed HERE!"
That hit Habeel like a blade. His face twisted, grief and guilt choking him.
"I'll go on my own then!"
Ahmed snapped his fingers. Soldiers surrounded them instantly.
Ababeel tried to stop him.
He shoved her away, blinded by rage and agony.
The commander sighed.
"I'm afraid I'll need to take drastic measures. You're being sent home. House arrest. You'll live as you always have. And we'll do our job without a civilian telling us how to do it."
Habeel fought wildly—punches, kicks, grappling—but the soldiers only blocked him, refusing to hit back.
Until he grabbed one by the collar—
Sulaiman stepped forward and struck him with the back of his rifle.
Habeel staggered.
Collapsed.
Hand clutching his neck, eyes barely open.
Ahmed crouched beside him, voice low.
"Two months. Think about what you did wrong. After that… we'll talk."
He nodded to Sulaiman.
"Put an ankle monitor on him. His parents will decide where he can go."
The cold metal clicked around Habeel's ankle.
He still held the plushie.
With a heavy heart, they carried him out.
Ababeel stood frozen.
Ahmed looked at her.
"Do you want this too?"
She shook her head silently.
"Good," he muttered. "Your sister and his parents are outside. Go."
But before she stepped out, she whispered:
"What happens after two months?"
Ahmed smirked, intrigued.
"You think he'll come back here?"
She looked at the ground.
"As far as I know him… he will never stop."
Something about that pleased Ahmed—a challenge he welcomed.
"Then it's for me to decide," he said.
"You may leave now."
Ababeel walked out into the fading evening, heart torn apart. Behind her, Habeel was dragged toward a car, holding the rabbit plushie like it was the last piece of his soul.
He blamed himself.
Blamed the soldiers.
Blamed every second he wasn't fast enough.
And worst of all—
He feared Janneh wouldn't survive the place she was taken to.
And that fear would consume him.