Chapter Content
Kamel knelt in the brittle roadside grass, sweat beading beneath the rim of his cavalry cap. The morning sun was sharp, clear, and merciless, bleaching the world until even shadows looked thin. Chalky dust clung to his boots, to the knees of his faded green uniform, to the edges of everything that moved.
A soft wind came off the road and brought smells in layers: manure, crushed weeds, stale wool—and beneath it, that faint sour scent of too many people moving the same way for too long.
The refugee column passed him like a slow, exhausted river.
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