WIDA

Chapter 13: The Return of the Gadir

Wida's fears were realized sooner than she had anticipated. Barely a week after the council's gathering, word came from the northern scouts: the Gadir were returning.

She called an emergency meeting with her brothers and the village elders. They crowded into the small council room, their faces tight with concern.

"They're massing an army," one of the scouts reported. "It's not just the Gadir anymore—they've allied with some of the neighboring tribes."

Wida's heart sank. She had hoped the Gadir would hesitate after their chieftain's death, that they might reconsider their position. But instead, they had strengthened their resolve—and now they were coming with more forces than ever before.

"We can't face them alone," Obis said, his brow furrowed. "Not this time."

"We won't be alone," Wida replied, her voice calm but firm. "We've made alliances of our own. I'll call on the tribes who stood with us at the council."

Her brothers exchanged uneasy glances. "And if they don't come?" asked Lewa, the most thoughtful of her siblings. "What if they decide this isn't their fight?"

Wida squared her shoulders. "Then we fight alone. But I don't think they'll abandon us. They know what's at stake."

She turned to Lewa who stood holding Abudem who was shaking with anger, her eyes sharp. "Send word to the tribes. Tell them we need their warriors, and we need them soon."

Lewa nodded and quickly left the room, moving with the urgency the situation demanded.

As the council meeting came to a close, Wida lingered in the room, her mind racing with strategies and possibilities. She had known the Gadir would return, but she hadn't expected them to come so soon—or with such overwhelming numbers. This would be their greatest test yet.

But she wasn't the same person she had been when she first fled the palace. She was no longer just a runaway princess. She was a leader—a chieftain. And she would face this challenge head-on.

A last stand

The Gadir arrived at dawn, their forces stretching across the horizon like a dark cloud. Wida stood on the village's battlements, her heart pounding as she surveyed the approaching army. The tribes that had answered her call stood beside her, their warriors ready, but even with their combined forces, the Gadir outnumbered them two to one.

Obis stood beside her, his expression grim. "They brought everything they had."

"So did we," Wida replied, her voice steady. "We fight for our future, Obis. We fight for our home."

As the Gadir forces moved closer, Wida raised her spear high into the air, her voice carrying across the battlefield. "This is our land! We will not let them take it from us!"

Her warriors echoed her cry, their voices rising in defiance. The Gadir may have come with overwhelming numbers, but Wida's people had something far more powerful: they were fighting for their very survival.

The battle began with the clash of steel and the roar of war cries. Wida fought alongside her people, her spear moving with deadly precision as she cut down any enemy that came too close. She could feel the weight of the battle around her—the chaos, the bloodshed—but she never wavered. She was determined to lead by example, to show her people that she would stand with them until the end.

Obis fought by her side, his sword flashing in the early morning light. He had always been her protector, and in this moment, she was grateful for his unwavering presence. Together, they pushed forward, driving back the Gadir forces.

But as the battle raged on, Wida's strength began to wane. She could feel the exhaustion creeping into her limbs, the weight of the fight pressing down on her. She had fought battles before, but never one like this—never one where so much was at stake.

As she paused to catch her breath, she saw a figure moving through the chaos, cutting a path toward her. It was the new Gadir chieftain, a tall man with a cruel smile and cold eyes. He was coming for her.

Wida gripped her spear tighter, ready to face him. But as the chieftain drew closer, something unexpected happened. A group of warriors—tribesmen from one of the allied villages—surged forward, intercepting the Gadir leader before he could reach her. They fought fiercely, giving Wida the time she needed to recover and rejoin the fight.

The battle raged on for hours, the tide shifting back and forth. But slowly, surely, Wida's forces began to gain the upper hand. The Gadir had come expecting an easy victory, but they had underestimated the strength and resolve of Wida's people.

As the dust finally settled, a new dawn could finally be seen, the Gadir army was in full retreat. Their new chieftain had fallen, and without his leadership, the remaining warriors fled the battlefield, leaving behind their dead and wounded.

Wida stood in the center of the village, her body bruised and battered, but her spirit unbroken. They had won. They had defended their home.

Obis approached, his face streaked with blood and dirt, but his eyes gleaming with pride. "We did it."

Wida nodded, her heart swelling with relief. "We did."

As the villagers and allied warriors began to tend to the wounded and rebuild once more, Wida took a moment to herself. She climbed the hill overlooking the village, the same hill where she had stood so many times before. But this time, the view was different.

The valley below was filled with life—people working together, building something greater than any one of them could have done alone. This was the future she had dreamed of. A future where they weren't just surviving, but thriving.

Obis joined her on the hill, standing quietly beside her as they watched the sunrise. "What now?" he asked after a long silence.

Wida smiled, the warmth of the sun on her face. "Now, we build. Not just walls, but bridges. Between tribes, between people. We've shown them that we're strong, but now we need to show them that we can be more than that. We can be a home."

Obis looked at her, his expression softening. "You've already done that, Wida. You've given them something to believe in."

Wida's smile widened, her heart full of hope for the future. "Then let's make sure it lasts."

Together, they stood on the hill, watching as the new day began to unfold. The village below was no longer just a place of refuge—it was a symbol of resilience, of unity, and of the future they had fought so hard to create.

And Wida knew, with unwavering certainty, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

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