Characters In Refugee Novels & Stories

I drew out a deep breath, doing my best to regather my composure, and show these men that I meant business. Show these men that I was capable of the work that they were offering to me. I needed money to provide for my family... It would be the only way that we would ever make it out of this refugee camp. 12 papa “Sorry I took so long,” I heaved. Lazarus turned around to face me, his eyes lighting up as he saw me. Him and the man standing beside him, Rhys, both blunted their cigarettes, giving me their full, undivided attention.

He was looking at the pit. Below him, the Unlearned had reached their breaking point. Starvation was a slow rot, but thirst was a sharpenend blade. Hundreds of mutated shifters, their skin cracked and weeping a clear, scentless fluid, were circling a cluster of human refugees huddled behind a stack of empty silver-salt crates. These were the ones I had pulled from the GBCA camps—weak, fleshy, and currently the only source of moisture the wolves could see. "Meat!" a voice shrieked, a wet, rattling sound of a throat scoured by dust.

"I'm tired of just surviving. I want to live. Want to raise our child in a world where they don't have to constantly look over their shoulder." "That world might not exist. Not in our lifetime. Maybe not in theirs either." "Then we build it. One day at a time. One battle at a time. One treaty amendment at a time." A commotion at the border interrupted us. Wolves running. Shouting. Fear in their voices. "What now?" I ran toward the disturbance, Lucian close behind. We found them at the north entrance. A group of refugees. Wolves from the Free Packs. Bloody. Terrified. Running from something.

“I want a full report on the border by morning. Now call the elders for an emergency meeting.” “Yes, Alpha,” he said nodding, already moving to organize the crowd. Lyria’s POV, I rushed downstairs and finally landed in the pack hall with my maids. Obviously, the emergency siren was loud enough to shatter my peaceful sleep and I wanted to make the best use of this situation. As I entered the hall, I saw a boy and a girl no older than ten among the refugees. Their parents had lost their lives in the rogue attack. Just after taking a glance at their tear-streaked, sobbing faces, I knew they were the perfect things I needed right now.

She said Laila could not fight with her arms bound, and if she let the white fire out now in this confined space, she would kill the refugees along with the enforcers. Laila gritted her teeth so hard a copper taste filled her mouth, her eyes fixed on Kaden’s massive form as he fought at the base of the stairs. He was surrounded by four enforcers who were using long, silver tipped pikes to keep his jaws away from their throats. Every time a pike bit into his shoulder or his flank, a small puff of black smoke rose from his fur, the silver salt burning into his skin and slowing his unnatural healing process. He was bleeding from a dozen shallow wounds, his dark fur slick with a mixture of his o

"How are things over at the border?" Wilbur asked. Karl responded, "We've set up a relocation point for any refugee believers who have managed to escape to be moved to somewhere safe, but there have been many more who have either been captured or just killed outright." "They've gone too far." Catherine's face lit up with a red glow of fury. "Cameron," Wilbur called out. "Yes, Your Holiness." Cameron hurried to stand. "How many men do you have now?" asked Wilbur coldly.

Lucas P.O.V. ‘Cian?’ I open the link, including Mirage in it this time so he knows she is with me. ‘Lulu, I know I’ve kind of abandoned you right now, but damn. Do you miss me that much?’ He links back and Mirage snorts behind me as we slowly walk towards the bridge to the shabby camp. ‘We’re going to have more refugees coming your way - women and children. Some of them are not going to be as friendly minded as the rest.’

The merged realities. Mira looked at them all. “Different failures.” Elena stared. “And the city?” “A refuge.” “Built by whom?” “People who survived them.” Catherine stepped forward. “You said we were functions.” Mira looked at her. “You were once part of the refuge.” Catherine's face hardened. “Once?” “You chose to leave.” The boy with no name stared. “She left me.” Mira looked at him. “No.” The child froze. Catherine turned sharply.

They would share meals, stories, and dreams, a small community of souls bound by something deeper than blood. One evening, a young woman arrived at their door. She was thin and tired, her clothes travel-worn, her eyes hollow with grief. "Please," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I need help. I have nowhere else to go." Marika welcomed her inside, offering food and shelter. The woman was a refugee, fleeing a conflict in a distant territory. She had lost everything—her family, her home, her hope. "You're safe here," Marika assured her. "This is a place of peace. You can stay as long as you need."

Fear was spreading. And now twenty more lives stood outside the walls. Waiting. Hoping. One of the older refugees finally stepped forward. His movements looked slow from exhaustion. "We don't want trouble." His voice cracked slightly. "We only need shelter." Silence followed. Because shelter required food. Food required resources. Resources required sacrifices. The math was simple. The consequences weren't. Kael studied the group carefully. Many could barely stand. Several children clung to their parents. One elderly woman appeared close to collapsing.