Aftermath and Recovery

The pale morning light filtered through the remnants of smoke, casting a soft glow over the camp. Biodun stood among the wreckage, his heart heavy as he surveyed the damage. The once-bustling warehouse had become a silent monument to the battle that had raged mere hours ago. Ash and debris littered the ground, while the metallic tang of blood still clung to the air. Hassan’s forces had been driven back, but victory came with a steep cost.

As Biodun walked through the camp, his eyes landed on his allies. Some sat silently in makeshift infirmaries, bandaged and bruised. Others were on their feet, but just barely, their movements slow and labored. Each face he passed wore the haunted expression of someone who had stared death in the face. The wounded outnumbered the able-bodied, and every step Biodun took deepened the weight on his shoulders.