Dawn crept slowly over the horizon, painting the forest in muted shades of gray and gold. The air was cold and thick with tension. Sofiane strapped his gear tightly, checking his knife and sidearm one last time. He had decided to lead a small reconnaissance mission before Ayoub's forces could strike first.
Julien was already waiting by the gate, his breath visible in the chilly air. "We move light and fast," he said quietly, eyes scanning the tree line. "If we spot any of Ayoub's men, we don't engage—just observe."
Sofiane nodded, motioning for Mouna to follow. She carried the map, carefully marked with potential ambush points and abandoned roads. The three slipped out of the refuge like shadows, their steps swallowed by the mist.
Behind them, Zahira watched from the rampart, her hand unconsciously clutching the small pendant she wore—a habit she had picked up since their escape from Germany. She whispered a quiet prayer as the trio disappeared among the trees.
The forest was unnervingly quiet. Birds didn't sing anymore, and the only sound was the crunch of frost beneath their boots. They moved along a dirt path, half-swallowed by vines and roots, scanning for signs of movement. Sofiane knelt and touched the ground. Tire tracks. Fresh ones.
"They've been here," he murmured. "Two, maybe three vehicles. Probably scouting."
Mouna frowned, scanning the distance through binoculars. "If they're that close, it means Ayoub's not far behind."
Julien's jaw tightened. "He's hunting us."
They followed the tracks until the forest thinned out, revealing a broken overpass stretching across a narrow river. Below it, abandoned vehicles littered the banks. Sofiane motioned for silence and crouched. From their vantage point, they spotted figures on the far side—armed, moving in formation. Ayoub's scouts.
Julien whispered, "They're setting something up. Look—traps, maybe mines."
Sofiane studied the scene through his scope. There were at least six men, methodically placing tripwires and motion sensors. They were building a perimeter, tightening the noose.
"We need to go back," Mouna urged. "If they secure the bridge, it cuts off our escape route north."
Sofiane took one last look and nodded. "We'll inform Zahira. We reinforce the western side tonight."
As they retreated through the forest, a faint metallic click stopped them cold. Mouna froze. Her boot had pressed on something buried under the leaves.
Sofiane's pulse spiked. "Don't move," he said calmly, crouching beside her. He brushed away the dirt—an anti-personnel mine, old but still active.
Julien swore under his breath. "Can you disarm it?"
Sofiane exhaled slowly. "Maybe." He worked carefully, fingers steady despite the tremor in his veins. The air felt like it could explode at any second. After a few long seconds, he twisted the pressure pin free and lifted it out. Click. Silence.
"Go," he whispered, tossing the disarmed detonator aside. They hurried back to the refuge, hearts still pounding.
By the time they reached the gates, the sun had fully risen. Zahira was waiting, eyes filled with worry. "What did you find?"
Sofiane spread out the map. "They're closing in from the west. Ayoub's scouts are setting traps along the river. We'll need to change our supply routes—tonight."
Julien added, "And they're organized. Not like the raiders we fought before. Ayoub has soldiers now."
Zahira's expression hardened. "Then we prepare for war."
Sofiane looked toward the horizon, where smoke from distant fires drifted upward. He knew Ayoub was coming—and this time, it wouldn't be a simple fight for survival. It would be a reckoning.