𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐦 & 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦

Chapter 15 [Part II]

The steady hum of the helicopter filled the night air, its blades slicing through the darkness above the dense forest. Below them, the canopy of trees stretched endlessly, their tops swaying gently under the breeze of the passing aircraft.

The world looked still and quiet, but everyone inside the helicopter knew how dangerous it would be for them and more dangerous for Khandan-e-Hitam.

Erum sat by the window, her eyes fixed on the thick shadows below. Dua, Enayat, and Zoya sat nearby, tense, each one scanning the ground for any sign of life. The dim lights of the dashboard reflected off their faces, casting them in pale, flickering shades.

Erum remember how they emailed her again and again, telling her they were dying. No one is saving them. Their screams were not just screaming. It felt like if some was pouring lava in her ears. Her thoughts were disturbed as she heard.

"There," Enayat said suddenly, pointing toward a thin column of smoke rising between the trees. It wasn't fresh smoke - not the kind that came from a fire still burning. It was faint and scattered, the kind that lingered after a firehads died, mixed with dampness like someone had thrown water over the flames.

They understood people down there thought it was another airstrike on them, so they simply shut fire down. She could understand how much afraid people should be down there.

Erum leaned closer, her heart tightening. "Get us down there," she told the pilot.

With a sudden hit of turbulence, helicopter slowly lowered, the trees below parting just enough to make space for them. The wind from the blades sent dry leaves and ash into the air, starting moving so fast as atoms in steel when it was heated.

The moment the helicopter landed, the engine softened to a low thrum, and the sound of the blades chopping the air grew slower.

As soon as the helicopter appeared, people in the hidden camp panicked. Inhabitants moved quickly. Children were pulled behind shelters they made by torn down clothes, and a few frightened figures darted into the trees.

The remaining people of Khandan-e-Hitam thought another airstrike had come for them. After nights of fear and running, the sound of a helicopter meant only one thing:

Death, a painful death.

Erum, Dua, Enayat, and Zoya stepped out of the helicopter carefully, hands open and away from their weapons, indicating that they were not there to hurt them.

The scent of wet ash and earth hung heavy in the air. The light from a few dying fires flickered weakly between branches and leaves.

"We're not here to hurt you!" Erum called out, her voice steady but not harsh. "We came to help. Please... come out."

No one steps out thinking it was some sought of trap to call them out and then kill them.

"Please listen to us. We won't harm any of you. I'm a Külgin." Zoya tried to make them understand.

"We brought some food and warm clothes for you people, and I'm a Zamurd." It was Enayat trying her best.

A kid peeked out from his tent, his face showed how hungry he was, his eyes pleading for some mercy. Erum took a step ahead, but someone suddenly pulled that kid inside the tent. All four of them heard a soft mummering from the tent. "They will trap us by giving us food, clothes and shelter."

"I'm Zamurd, Erum Zamurd, chief representative of Khandan-e-Zamurd."

There was a long, heavy silence. Only the crackle of old branches and the soft creak of trees swaying in the wind could be heard.