Habeel is unconscious but breathing—finally breathing. Ababeel kneels beside him, her hands still trembling as she pulls him into her lap, steadying his head against her thigh. His skin is clammy and cold, chest rising in shallow, exhausted heaves.
Janneh curls tightly at his side, tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Ababeel brushes his hair from his forehead with gentle, deliberate movements—movements she didn't know she was capable of.
"Idiot…" she whispers, voice cracking. "You scared the life out of us."
His eyelids flutter—barely.
Then he hisses something—ragged, weak:"...tea… tree…"
Her brows knit—
Tea tree? She looks arou nd.T are— mall, wild sprigs of Melaleuca among the bushes.
Her breath stutters."Tea tree. You, piece of shit, annoying man! U could have told us not to let u touch them."
His face softens.
His breaths deepen, just a little bit, then—A crunch of footsteps freezes, pulling Janneh closer, her hand instinctively going toward a knife that isn't here. A figure emerges from between the trees.
A man—dusty, tall, older than them by maybe ten years. The kind of person who carried exhaustion like a second skin. He stops when he sees them."Easy," he says, raising his hands. "I'm one of you."His clothes confirm it—military scraps, desert fabric, the familiar stitching patterns from home. Ababeel swallows hard.
Her voice is tight.
"C-could you—help? He's… heavy."
The man nods once, understanding instantly.
"Where do you need him?"
"Back of the truck."
Together, they lift Habeel—who is, in fact, heavier than sin—and carry him carefully to the truck bed. Ababeel steadies his head while Janneh holds onto his sleeve the whole way.They lay him down.
Cover him with a blanket.
Wet a towel and place it on his forehead.The man sits back.
"Name's Abdullah."
Ababeel nods."Thank you… Really."
He glances toward Habeel.
"What happened to him?"
"Anaphylaxis," she murmurs. "He—barely made it."
Abdullah whistles under his breath.
"Well… he's lucky you were here."
Ababeel's hand pauses on Habeel's arm.
She doesn't respond.The evening sky was bruised purple and orange, streaks of fading light swallowed by the encroaching night. The campfire flickered weakly, casting long, trembling shadows across the rough-hewn clearing. Smoke curled lazily toward the treetops, carrying the faint scent of pine and the unmistakable sharpness of tea tree leaves.
Abdullah and Ababeel sit close enough to feel the warmth but far enough to keep watch on the truck.Abdullah pokes at the flames with a stick.
"So you two are running too?"Ababeel gives a strained laugh.
"Running, hiding, surviving… take your pick."Abdullah chuckles.
"You look too sharp for trouble."
"I attract it anyway."He laughs louder this time.
She smiles—barely—for the first time in hours.
Habeel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The world around him felt simultaneously familiar and alien—dazed, unsteady. His body ached, heavy from the earlier struggle, and a faint sweat coated his brow. He blinked, trying to orient himself, and realized he was in the back of a truck, blankets thrown haphazardly over him.
He pushed himself upright, wobbling like a newborn deer. The weight of his limbs made each movement feel monumental. As he swung his legs off the truck bed, the firelight caught his face, revealing confusion etched deeply into his features.
"Where…?" he murmured, voice rough. "How…?"
Ababeel, crouched by the fire tending to a pot of water, looked up. Her expression softened, eyes scanning Habeel for signs of pain.
"You're awake," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Took a while, huh?"
Habeel's gaze flicked toward the campfire.
His lips moved, struggling with words, "A…allergic…to…tea…tree…"
Ababeel's eyes widened as she followed the gaze of Habeel's shaking hand toward the scattered leaves around the clearing.
She nodded slowly, comprehension dawning. "I see. That's what did it," she said gently, leaning closer and whispered "You're safe now."
Habeel sagged back, his body trembling as the exhaustion caught up with him. "Thank…you…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
From the shadows, a man stepped forward—older, perhaps five years their senior, his clothes worn and practical, marking him as one of their own. He approached with cautious curiosity. The glow of the fire lit his face partially, revealing eyes that had seen more than their fair share of hardship. Habeel's eyes tracked him, but didn't fully register his presence.
The Abdullah knelt beside him, murmuring, "Let me help you. You're heavier than I expected."Ababeel and Abdullah shared a look, stifling the chuckles that bubbled up despite the tension.
"You've been carrying half the world on your shoulders, haven't you?" Abdullah said, teasing lightly, but there was warmth in the tone, a soft bridge across the terror of the day.
Habeel blinked, confusion clouding his features. He took in the firelight, the familiar faces, the strangers' presence, and tried to piece together how he had ended up here. Slowly, recognition flickered in his eyes, and a fragile, shaky smile appeared.
"You…you saved me?" he asked, voice breaking slightly.
Ababeel's expression was calm, reassuring. "We did what we had to. You're not alone anymore."The man helping him steadied Habeel's weight, and together they shifted him closer to the fire. Habeel's legs wobbled under him, but he managed to sit, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The warmth of the fire brushed against his chilled skin, and for the first time in hours, he felt the tremors of fear in his body ease slightly.
Abdullah, sitting cross-legged by the fire, grinned softly, breaking the silence. "Finally awake. We were beginning to think you were part of the trees out there."
Habeel's lips twitched, an attempt at humour that didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "Not…part of them…yet," he rasped, and the sound of his laughter—weak but genuine—mixed with the crackle of the fire.
The forest seemed to hold its breath around them. Leaves rustled in the faint evening wind, carrying the scent of damp earth and tea tree, a reminder of the danger they had narrowly survived. Yet here, in this fragile circle of firelight, there was a moment of peace. For now, they were together, and that was enough.