In the middle of the desert, we hold each other tightly. Dust stings our eyes. The wind is scorching, yet we tremble. We fear the soldiers will find us and kill us without hesitation. I will protect you, my little sister. We are in this together. This war was never our fault. Still, I cannot help but wish for a miracle. I hope someone will save us. I hope someone will stop hating us simply because we were born on the land they wanted. My chest grows heavier. Their hunt grows crueler. My light dims as the storm draws closer. I wish we were not merely two candles. I wish we were two lighthouses.