Nightfall draped the desolate village in a suppressive silence. The occasional dog bark added a hint of tranquility to the settlement. Inside the village, a small river meandered past houses built along its banks, their layout pleasingly haphazard. Every home lit up with dim, yellow lights that flickered in the breeze. Near a broad section of the river stood a large, enclosed courtyard with its doors tightly shut; more than a dozen fully armed individuals patrolled the entrance with a burly man leading a wolfhound as robust as a calf.
There were armed militants patrolling the courtyard as well, rifles loaded and ready. The whole compound exuded an air of somber lethality, thick and weighted. The main building in the courtyard was ablaze with light, and two sturdy men stood at the door, dressed in camouflage combat suits, wearing bulletproof helmets, and holding M16s, grenades hanging off their bodies as they vigilantly scanned their surroundings.
