From The Other Perspective Part 3

The camp bustled with activity, and as Liv walked alongside Hffyl, she observed their surroundings with curiosity. A haphazard collection of tents and makeshift buildings, all surrounded by dry, desolate land, made for an unusual juxtaposition.

A group of children played with a deflated soccer ball nearby, their laughter piercing the tense atmosphere. Women in vibrant hijabs moved between tents, their faces covered but their eyes revealing a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as they glanced at Liv. Men with weathered faces and guns slung over their shoulders stared at the newcomers, their expressions a blend of wariness and curiosity.

As they walked deeper into the camp, Hffyl leading the way, Liv couldn't help but wonder about the lives of these people. They were far from her usual mission environments, where her perspective was firmly rooted in the role of the AASOC as the "heroes" trying to make the world safer.

She whispered to Hffyl, using her limited Pashto, "This place is... different. What are they saying?"

Hffyl, walking beside her, whispered back in English, "They're just curious about us. They're asking why you're here."

Liv's grip on her rifle tightened slightly as they approached a more crowded area of the camp, where a group of older men sat on rugs, sipping tea and conversing in hushed tones. Their eyes bore into her as she passed.

Hffyl addressed the group, and although Liv couldn't understand the language, the tone seemed respectful. They exchanged words, a mixture of Pashto and English, and the men nodded, some of the suspicion in their eyes softening.

Liv leaned closer to Hffyl. "What's going on? Are they buying your story?"

Hffyl shrugged subtly, not making eye contact with her. "They're considering it. We need to find Mustafa."

The tensions in the camp remained palpable, but the initial hostility towards Liv seemed to have lessened. She couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort. These people, despite being labeled as "insurgents" by the AASOC, were just trying to survive in a harsh world.

As they walked deeper into the camp, the sounds of children playing and the smell of cooking fires filled the air. Liv realized that, despite the hostile situation, life went on here, as it did in so many other places. These were real people with real concerns, and she couldn't ignore that fact.

Her duty to the AASOC remained intact, but she couldn't help but question the bigger picture, the complexities of the world she operated in.

As they ventured deeper into the camp, the 'insurgent' label Liv had mentally slapped on these people began to peel away. Everywhere she looked, she saw remnants of daily life – children playing with makeshift toys, women preparing food, and even a group of elders gathered in what seemed to be a communal space, discussing something with animated gestures.

She overheard snippets of conversation, some about mundane topics like food rations and water supply, others more serious about strategy and potential negotiations with local authorities. The blending of Pashto, Arabic, and other local dialects was music to her ears, revealing a mosaic of cultures and traditions.

"Keep your wits about you," Hffyl muttered, catching Liv's gaze. His voice was hushed, but she could sense the tension in his tone.

"Oi," Liv whispered to Hffyl as they walked, her voice hint of suspicion, "this is not what I expected."

Hffyl, without breaking his stride, responded with a half-smirk, "What did you think? Just a bunch of wild-eyed terrorists?"

Liv shot him a glare but had to concede. "I mean, it's... normal. Like any other village."

"Yeah," Hffyl muttered, "people trying to live. But remember, 'normal' depends on where you're standing."

As they continued, they passed a makeshift school where children sat, absorbed in their lessons. The sight tugged at Liv's heartstrings but also raised questions. "If they want to be seen as genuine, why the attacks? The violence?" she muttered to herself.

Hffyl overheard her, "Everything's not black and white. But let's focus on now, yeah?"

They approached a more crowded area of the camp, where a group of older men sat on rugs, sipping tea and conversing in hushed tones. Their eyes bore into her as she passed.

Hffyl addressed the group, and although Liv couldn't understand the language, the tone seemed respectful. They exchanged words, a mixture of Pashto and English, and the men nodded, some of the suspicion in their eyes softening.

Liv leaned closer to Hffyl. "What's going on? Are they buying your story?"

Hffyl shrugged subtly, not making eye contact with her. "They're considering it. We need to find Mustafa."

One of the men sipping tea stood up, dusting his loose-fitting garments. He gestured towards a large tent in the distance with a significant number of guards outside it.

"That's where you'll find him," he said in heavily accented English, eyeing Liv carefully.

"مننه کوم," Hffyl nodded, leading Liv towards the indicated tent.

She could feel the many eyes on them, her senses on high alert. "So, when we meet this Mustafa fella," Liv murmured, "how do you reckon we play this? He won't be thrilled to see me."

"You let me do the talking," Hffyl replied, his gaze forward. "You're right, they're not going to roll out a red carpet for you. But it's vital that we keep cool heads. We're guests here."

"Uninvited ones, for me at least," she muttered back.

As they neared the tent, a guard stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his knife. "What do you want?" he demanded in Pashto.

Hffyl responded in the same language, his tone calm and even. They exchanged a few sentences, with the guard shooting wary glances towards Liv now and then.

Finally, the guard seemed to relent, nodding towards the tent entrance. "You can go in. Just him," he said in broken English, pointing at Hffyl, then jabbing a thumb at Liv. "She waits here."

Liv's hand twitched toward her sidearm, a reflex she couldn't help. "That's not happening," she said, voice edged.

Hffyl shot her a look, signaling her to stay calm. "It's fine," he said to the guard. "She stays with me. Cuffed."

The guard hesitated, then after a brief nod from someone inside the tent, he stepped aside, letting them both enter.

Inside the dimly lit tent, a tall man with a dark beard stood looking over some maps. He looked up, locking eyes with Liv for a long moment before turning to Hffyl. "I didn't expect you to return so soon... or with company."

Liv, trying to put on a confident front, nodded in acknowledgment. "Thought it'd be rude not to introduce myself since I'm in your backyard."

The man, presumably Mustafa. "Very well. You've got guts, I'll give you that. What do you want?"

Hffyl cleared his throat, stepping forward. "We're here to talk. But first, a meal?"

Mustafa raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. "Always straight to the point with you. Very well, let's have a meal and talk." He gestured to a low table with cushions. "After all, it's not every day we have... unexpected guests."