The time Weche and Kibet had bought them was worth it.
Malik clenched his jaw as he surveyed the devastation around him. The landslide had sealed them in the valley, a natural prison of rock and debris. His men scrambled to clear a path, their frustration evident in the grumbles and occasional curses that filled the air. Some soldiers lay wounded, their groans adding to the weight of their predicament. The Kilwa army was trapped—exposed, exhausted, and vulnerable.
Yet Malik remained composed. Anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, but he could not afford to lose control. He recognized the brilliance of Nuri's strategy. This wasn't just an ambush—it was a calculated attempt to break them before the true battle began. And what stung even more was that it was working. Their scouts had not returned. Likely dead. Or worse, captured.
