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The desert wind whispered through the palms, carrying promises of resilience.
Anna tended to the wounded, her hands steady despite exhaustion. Amastan knelt beside her, holding their infant son Azul wrapped in desert cloth.
Their eyes met, sharing a moment of fragile hope.
> From the blood-soaked sands, a new life takes root—freedom’s fragile blossom.
Dawn revealed the battered oasis. Bodies lay silent in the sand. The freed tribe, though wounded, had held the line.
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Inspired by @Diane-de-la-Cheneraye