Regrouping

The first light of dawn filtered through the cracked windows of the new hideout, a repurposed warehouse on the outskirts of Lagos. The rebels moved with the quiet efficiency born of necessity, tending to the wounded and assessing the damage. Ada moved among them, offering words of encouragement and support.

She knelt beside a young fighter whose leg was wrapped in a makeshift bandage. His face was pale, his eyes wide with pain and fear. "You'll be okay," Ada said softly, squeezing his hand. "We'll get you proper medical attention soon."

He nodded weakly, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Thank you, Ada. I won't let them win."

Ada smiled, though her heart ached at the sight of so many injured. She moved on, stopping to check on others, her presence a small but vital comfort. Each face she saw, each hand she held, strengthened her resolve.