After a short rest, we resumed our journey again.
We crossed through dense woods, the trees casting long shadows in the fading light. Along the way, we spotted a few rabbits. Jakhir and I hunted them quietly—quick, clean kills. We skinned them and packed the meat for later. It was becoming part of our rhythm.
By now, a routine had settled into our days.
While the sun was up, I trained with my axe—learning to channel more energy into it, feeling its weight become a part of me.
Anisha would play with Ronny, their laughter like wind chimes in the quiet wild.
Radha had taken to Anisha as if she were her own daughter. She makes her hair, told her stories, made her laugh in ways I hadn't seen since that awful night.
Two days later, we came upon a small river. The water was low but clean, and schools of fish shimmered just beneath the surface.
"We should rest here," I said. "Just for a few days."
Everyone agreed. We set up a small camp beside the river, pitched tents, and gathered firewood. Radha started preparing the rabbit meat, and Jakhir caught a few fish with a makeshift spear.
That afternoon, I lay under a tree, resting my eyes. The breeze rustled through the leaves above me, and the sound of the flowing water filled the air with peace.
Then I heard it—laughter. Bright, honest, and free.
I opened my eyes and saw them: Anisha and Ronny splashing each other in the shallow river, chasing minnows and skipping stones. For a moment, the pain, the grief, the past—none of it existed. Only that laughter.
I couldn't help but smile. Then I laughed, genuinely.
Before I knew it, I was on my feet.
"Hey!" I shouted, "You two think you're the only ones allowed to have fun?"
They turned, grinning wide, and welcomed me with a splash of water. I jumped in, fully clothed, and joined them.
For the first time in a long time, I felt something strange and rare.
Hope.
After two days of peace by the river, their spirits were lighter and their bodies rested. They felt ready—strong enough to continue the journey.
They resumed walking again.
On the second day of travel, the road grew busier. They started passing other groups—refugees, survivors, traders with carts—everyone moving somewhere, seeking safety.
Then, in the distance, a small group appeared walking toward them. As they got closer, Jakhir suddenly shouted, "Uncle!"
An older man's face lit up in surprise. He walked forward quickly, arms open. Jakhir embraced him tightly.
"Uncle... What are you doing here? Where's my brother? Where's Auntie?" he asked with a smile that slowly faded.
The old man's expression changed. He put a hand on Jakhir's shoulder.
"They didn't make it," he said softly.
Jakhir froze. "What… what do you mean?" His voice cracked.
The old man looked away. "Bandits. They attacked our village. Your brother… your aunt… they fought hard. But they couldn't escape."
Jakhir staggered back a step, like the weight of the news knocked the breath out of him. Radha rushed to his side, holding his hand tightly.
Nearby, Anisha overheard the conversation. She walked over slowly and looked up at the old man.
She asked quietly, "Uncle… do you know if my family is okay?"
The old man blinked in confusion. "Who is she?" he asked Jakhir.
Before Jakhir could answer, Naeem stepped forward.
"This is Anisha," he said. "She lost her family too. In the same raid that took mine. I've been taking her to her mother's family in Noorabad."
The old man squinted at Naeem, then at Anisha. "What are their names?"
Anisha spoke up, her voice trembling. "My grandfather's name was Iqbal. And my uncle's name was Omar. They live in Noorabad…"
The old man's eyes widened slightly. He nodded.