Resistance

**Shaira's POV**

Despite Omawit’s words, I refused to let his poison seep into my spirit. Every time I felt myself on the verge of giving in to the exhaustion and pain, I would evoke the memory of Angro. I thought of his warm voice whispering promises of love, the way he looked at me, as if I were the most valuable thing in his world. I remembered the warmth of his embrace when the jungle nights were cold, and that gave me the strength to keep moving, even when my body begged me to stop.

Every step was an internal struggle. My injured leg protested with each movement, and the fatigue made my muscles feel as heavy as lead. But I couldn’t afford to give up. I gritted my teeth and forced my feet to move forward, repeating in my mind over and over the teachings I had received during military training. The harsh days under the sun, the endless marches, the strict orders of my instructors echoed in my memory. They had prepared me to endure pain, to face adversity and push through when hope seemed lost. Now was the time to prove to myself that I could still do it.

“Don’t give up,” I repeated silently to myself, over and over. “Resist. Don’t let them break you.”

As we kept walking, I found myself remembering things I thought I had lost forever. Small details of my life before the crash began to come back to me: the sound of boots echoing down the metallic corridors of the base, the reports I had to prepare at the end of each mission, the feel of the flight helmet in my hands just before each takeoff. Fragments of my former life that began to fit together like pieces of an incomplete puzzle.

However, those memories didn’t only bring comfort, but also a sense of unease. I remembered my superior, Commander Soren, a stern but fair man who had always been demanding with the team. I recalled his warnings about what would happen if we ever fell into enemy hands. “You must give them nothing,” he would say in a firm voice. “You must not let them take the truth from you.”

That warning echoed in my mind, reminding me that Omawit, with his hatred and thirst for revenge, would do anything to destroy me. Every time a memory resurfaced, I felt a mixture of relief and fear. Relief, because my identity wasn’t fading away, and fear, because I knew that if Omawit discovered who I was and the information I held, he would use it against me without hesitation.

But I couldn’t let fear consume me. Not now. I thought of Angro once more. I knew he was still fighting to find me. If I stayed strong, if I resisted, there was still hope. Even though each step grew more difficult, even though the pain in my leg caused me to falter, I promised myself that I would not let Omawit see my suffering. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of witnessing a sign of weakness in me.

“You won’t give up, Shaira,” I told myself silently, while my memories and willpower intertwined to keep me upright. “You will survive. For yourself. For Angro. And because there’s still a fight you haven’t lost.”

That determination accompanied me as we advanced toward Zuwua, and though the journey seemed endless, something within me remained unbroken.

It had been hours, or perhaps days, since we began the trek to Zuwua. The thick jungle seemed endless, and the pain in my body had become a constant that I could barely distinguish from the exhaustion. My thoughts wandered, entangled in a web of memories and the ache of every step. Yet even in my exhausted state, I kept looking for any chance to escape. I couldn’t stay there, waiting for Omawit to carry out his threats. I had to find a way out.

Then, it happened. As we moved through a more open area, I noticed that Omawit’s men had spread out slightly, relaxing their vigilance. Some were too busy arguing over the best path to take, while others lagged behind to make sure we left no trace. And for an instant, I saw the opportunity I had been waiting for.

Without a second thought, I gathered all the strength I had left and bolted. The uneven terrain made it difficult to run, and my injured leg screamed with every stride, but I forced myself to ignore the pain. I knew I only had a few seconds before they realized what I was doing. I ran as fast as I could, dodging branches and leaping over roots. Hope flared inside me, pushing me to keep going, to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could make it.

I heard the shouts of Omawit’s men behind me as they realized my escape attempt. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed at my back, growing closer, but I didn’t dare look back. I could only focus on moving forward, on getting as far away as possible before they caught up.

My body began to falter, and the terrain grew steeper. I tripped over a root and fell to the ground, but quickly got back up, ignoring the searing pain in my leg. I couldn’t stop. Not now. However, before I could take another step, I felt strong hands grab my arm and drag me back to the ground.

I fought with all my strength, kicking and struggling to break free, but soon felt more warriors surrounding me, blocking any escape route. They swiftly pinned me down, roughly holding me as they dragged me back toward Omawit, who watched with a mixture of fury and satisfaction.

“I warned you,” he said in a cold voice, approaching slowly. “I thought you’d have learned by now that you can’t escape from me, eteri.”

They forced me to my knees before him, my strength spent and pain coursing through every fiber of my body. My breathing was labored, and tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Omawit crouched beside me, his rough fingers gripping my jaw tightly, forcing me to look at him. “This is the price for your insolence,” he murmured, his cruelty making me shudder. Then, without warning, he struck me with the back of his hand, the impact leaving me dazed. Blood trickled from my lip, but I forced myself to keep my gaze defiant.

“I told you,” he continued, his voice laced with contempt. “There’s no escape for you. Each time you try to flee, I will make you pay more dearly. I’m not a man who repeats his warnings.”

His words felt like sharp blades. Despair threatened to take hold, but deep down, a small spark of defiance refused to be extinguished. No matter how hard Omawit tried to break my spirit, I wouldn’t let him take my will. As they lifted me to my feet to continue the march, I promised myself that I wouldn’t give up, no matter how many times I fell. Someday, I would find a way to free myself from his grip.