Night fell heavy and silent after the battle. In Anna’s tent, pain gripped her like a roaring sea. Women gathered around, laying cool cloths on her brow, whispering prayers in Arabic, Latin, and Tamasheq.
At dawn, as the first rays split the dunes, a baby’s cry broke the hush. Amastan rushed in, his eyes wide with awe. Anna lay exhausted, sweat-soaked hair clinging to her face. She held their son to her chest, tears mingling with her smile.