She heard footsteps squelch through the mud behind her, then felt the gentle weight of Nyah’s hand on her back.

”You don’t have to hold it together,” Nyah said softly.

Bette let out a ragged breath but didn’t respond. Her jaw clenched hard. The pain wasn’t just grief. It was fury. A deep, simmering anger at Chang, at the senselessness of it all, at the destruction of something that had taken years to build. She wanted to scream, to run until her lungs gave out, to break something just to hear it shatter.

Instead, she stood there, still and shaking, while Nyah stayed beside her in quiet solidarity.

The sound of footsteps and muffled voices broke the silence.

They both turned toward the gate.

It had been left wide open in the chaos, swinging slightly on its hinges. Now, it filled with movement. The Maasai village. Dozens of them. Wilson led the way, his frame straight despite the long march.

Behind him, villagers carried what they could: canvas sacks, buckets, blankets. There were tools strapped to backs, bundles of food in baskets, one man even dragging a broken wheelbarrow repurposed for hauling supplies.

No one said a word as they entered. The sight of the devastation seemed to say enough.

Bette stepped forward as Wilson approached. He looked her over quickly, taking in the ash stains on her cheeks, the cuts on her arms, the exhaustion in her stance. He gave a short nod, not out of formality, but something deeper.

“We saw the smoke before first light. Some of the older boys said they heard something during the night, like thunder, but it wasn’t the sky. We came as soon as we could.”

Bette gave a numb nod. ”You shouldn’t have had to.”

”Maybe not. But we’re here now.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words tangled in her throat. Her eyes flicked to the villagers now fanning out across the grounds.

Some were already directing others to the damaged buildings.

A group of elders gathered at what was left of the main path.

Women were setting up crates with food, tearing cloth to use as bandages. A few of the younger men joined Elijah, who had been silently piling charred debris away from the surviving structures.