❝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞❞

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"That's just a baby!" exclaimed Soldier Boy, his voice tinged with frustration

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"That's just a baby!" exclaimed Soldier Boy, his voice tinged with frustration. One of the Mujahideen, named Jamal, was vehemently opposed to caring for the foal. He argued in Arabic, insisting that they had more pressing concerns than feeding a wild animal. He shouted that taking care of the foal would mean providing it with goat milk until it matured—a task he deemed impractical and burdensome.

They were fighting a war against the red, not made-up shepherds.

Ahmad Shah Durrani, the leader of the Afghan resistance, was torn. He observed the disheveled appearance of his soldiers, their exhaustion from the night's events evident. The decision was not easy; the debate over the foal was as much about morale as it was about practical concerns.

"Enough," Ahmad said decisively. His love for horses was well known among his men. "Every creature of God deserves a chance to live. We will try to keep this foal alive until he comes of age. Perhaps one day he will become a mighty stud, valuable to us."

James Carter, the lieutenant, voiced his skepticism. "It's a wild horse. How are you even going to keep it?" His tone was dismissive, but Soldier Boy's glare silenced him.

"He's half your size," Soldier Boy retorted with disdain, defending the foal.

Tensions were high, but Ahmad's authority prevailed. "Horses represent bravery and victory in battle. Before the Americans helped us, we rode horses—they are faithful companions. If we kill this horse, we are no better than those who bomb and kill our families. With God's grace, we will sustain this horse, and we will name him Amal—hope."

The name Amal, meaning "hope" in Arabic, resonated with the group. The mood shifted from discord to a shared sense of purpose.

In the aftermath, Soldier Boy returned to the creek, where the foal still lay beside its deceased mother. Everyone had agreed that the foal seemed to have taken an interest in Soldier Boy and thus it would be easier to approach the wild animal if he captured it himself. The sight of the foal clinging to the warm, decaying body of its mother struck him deeply. The foal's futile attempts to rouse the lifeless horse were heart-wrenching. It must really have no survival instinct, Benjamin thought. When it saw Soldier Boy, its ears perked up with a flicker of hope. It approached him, nudging at his sleeve, searching for comfort.

"I know you're hungry, boy," Soldier Boy murmured, his voice softening. He carefully draped his belt around the foal's neck, and the animal recoiled slightly at the unfamiliar touch. Soldier Boy guided the foal back to the cave.

Inside, a soldier was preparing a makeshift feeding setup. He had pierced a water bottle and filled it with goat milk from their recent hunt. Soldier Boy handed the bottle to the young boy who had earlier been terrified. The teenager, still shaken but eager to help, began to feed the foal.

As the foal eagerly drank from the bottle, its persistent nuzzling and sucking lifted the spirits of everyone present. The sight of the tiny creature clinging to life, its head bobbing as it fed, provided a sliver of hope and normalcy amidst the chaos.

Trauma Bond          | SOLDIER BOYWhere stories live. Discover now