They ran.
Not knowing where.
Not knowing if there was anywhere left that was safe.
Jory's hand was locked inside her mother's grip.
Tight.
Too tight.
But she didn't pull away.
Because now she understood—
this wasn't just fear of losing the way…
this was fear of losing each other.
The camp had become unrecognizable.
The paths they used to walk every day…
gone.
The tents they knew…
gone.
Everything felt broken.
Twisted.
Like the world had been shaken and never put back together.
"Stay close!" her mother said again.
But her voice was shaking now.
Not just urgent.
Fragile.
Jory looked up at her.
For the first time…
she didn't see strength.
She saw someone trying to be strong.
And that difference…
hurt.
Another explosion.
So loud—
it didn't sound like a sound.
It felt like something tearing through the air itself.
Jory flinched.
Her ears rang.
For a moment, everything became silent.
Then slowly—
the noise came back.
But different.
Duller.
Farther.
Like she was underwater.
"Mama…"
Jory's voice was faint.
"I can't hear well…"
Her mother didn't answer.
She just pulled her closer.
Faster.
They turned around a corner—
or what used to be a corner.
And then—
Jory stopped.
Her body froze again.
But this time…
it wasn't fear.
It was recognition.
There—
just a few steps ahead—
was their neighbor's tent.
Or what was left of it.
Collapsed.
Flattened.
Torn open.
Jory's breathing slowed.
Too slow.
Unnaturally slow.
"No…" she whispered.
Her mother saw it too.
And for a second—
she didn't move.
Because they both knew who was inside that tent.
A little girl.
Her friend.
The one who used to sit next to her.
The one who laughed when Jory drew silly faces.
The one who once said,
"Draw me flying."
Jory took a step forward.
Then another.
Her mother tried to stop her—
"Jory, no—"
But Jory wasn't listening.
Not anymore.
She reached the tent.
Or what remained of it.
Her hands moved automatically.
Pulling at the torn fabric.
Lifting pieces.
Calling softly—
"Lina…?"
No answer.
She moved faster now.
Desperate.
"Lina!"
Her voice cracked.
Still nothing.
Her hands were shaking.
Her breath uneven.
She pulled one last piece aside—
And then…
she saw her.
Lina.
Still.
Covered in dust.
Her eyes closed.
Her face…
quiet.
Too quiet.
Jory stopped moving.
Everything inside her stopped.
No tears.
No sound.
Just…
emptiness.
Her hands fell slowly to her sides.
Her chest didn't rise.
For a moment—
it felt like she forgot how to breathe.
Her mother reached her.
Pulled her back gently.
But Jory didn't resist this time.
Because she didn't feel anything anymore.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Not even sadness.
Just…
a silence inside her that was louder than everything outside.
"Come," her mother whispered.
But Jory didn't move.
Her eyes stayed on Lina.
On the girl who had asked to be drawn flying.
And now—
she wasn't moving at all.
"Jory…"
Her mother's voice broke.
That sound—
that small break—
was what finally reached her.
Jory blinked.
Once.
Twice.
And then—
her chest tightened suddenly.
Like something inside her had snapped back to life.
She inhaled sharply.
Too sharply.
And then—
the tears came.
Not soft.
Not quiet.
But heavy.
Uncontrolled.
Raw.
"Mama…"
Her voice shattered.
"She said she wanted to fly…"
Her mother held her tightly.
Jory buried her face in her shoulder.
And cried.
Not just for Lina.
But for everything.
For the sky.
For the ground.
For the sound.
For the moment when things stopped being what they used to be.
Another explosion.
Farther now.
But it didn't matter.
Because something inside Jory had already changed.
Forever.
She didn't look at the sky anymore.
Not with wonder.
Not with curiosity.
Now—
she looked at it with understanding.
Because she had seen what falls from it.
And what it takes away.
Her mother pulled her gently.
"We have to go."
Jory didn't argue.
She didn't ask.
She just nodded.
Slowly.
And followed.
But before she turned—
she looked one last time at Lina.
And something inside her whispered:
I will draw you.
Not like this.
Not like this.
I will draw you flying.
And this time…
you will stay in the sky.