The return of Musa and Jabari to the Deep Warren was not met with cheers or celebration. It was met with the frantic, desperate efficiency of a field hospital on the brink of collapse.When the heavy iron floodgate groaned open and the two young men hauled the soaked, heavy canvas duffel bags into the cavernous colonial reservoir, Mama Zuri was already waiting. The old healer did not waste time with pleasantries. She leaned heavily on her carved wooden cane, her amber eyes scanning the bulging bags with a fierce, protective hunger."Put them on the pallets," Mama Zuri commanded, her voice cracking with exhaustion. She pointed a trembling finger toward the center of the medical tent, where rows of coughing, feverish children lay wrapped in scavenged foil blankets. "Eliana! Sort the broad-spectrum antibiotics. We prioritize the pediatric cases exhibiting fluid in the lungs. Jabari, open the saline pouches. Musa, I need clean water—boiling.""You got it, Mama," Musa said, his usual swagg
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