Commander Shabaka wiped the sweat from his brow as he led the remnants of his force through the arid plains. They had started as a proud army of over a thousand warriors, but after the brutal air assault on Kandara, only 35 remained. The rest were lost to the relentless bombing, their bodies buried beneath the rubble of what had once been their stronghold.
The survivors moved in silence, their spirits crushed, their eyes hollow. The once mighty Matalebe warriors now limped, dragging their feet through the dust, haunted by the screams of their fallen comrades. Their bodies were bruised and battered, some still bleeding from shrapnel wounds, but there was no time to stop. They had to reach Moba.
"Three hours," Shabaka thought bitterly, looking at the horizon. "Just three hours and everything changed."
