At first, the land was just an obstacle—something to conquer, something to fix so I could leave it behind. I had fought wars, led armies, and left behind trails of destruction in the name of victory. Fixing something instead of destroying it was... unfamiliar.
But as the months passed, I came to know the people who called this place home.
They were not soldiers, not warriors, yet they had fought their own quiet battles for survival long before I arrived. The sun and the sand had tried to kill them every day, but they endured.
I learned their names. I listened to their stories.
I saw the way they looked at the fields we had grown together—not just with gratitude, but with pride. The same pride I had felt standing victorious on a battlefield, they now carried as they tilled their land, as they harvested what had once been impossible to grow.
I had thought them weak at first. Now, I understand.
They were the strongest people I had ever met.