The camp lay in ruins, a haunting testament to the battle that had ravaged it. Scorched earth and smoldering debris stretched as far as the eye could see. Survivors shuffled through the wreckage, their faces etched with exhaustion, fear, and faint hope. The scent of smoke lingered heavily in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. Ash swirled in ghostly eddies, clinging to clothes and skin, a grim reminder of their recent ordeal.
Ruby stood at the center of the wreckage, her commanding presence a lifeline for the weary group. Her injured shoulder was tightly bandaged, though she moved as if she barely felt the pain. Her gaze swept over the survivors, assessing, calculating. "We don't have time to mourn," she said, her voice firm yet steady. "If we stay here, they'll come back—and next time, we won't be this lucky."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, though the weariness in their eyes betrayed their doubts.
