The sun cast a golden sheen over the new towns as Khisa rode beside Azenet, his hand lightly resting on hers as their horses trotted in rhythm. The land was changing, steadily transforming under their care. Every few miles, newly constructed homes rose proudly beside leveled roads and community centers. Children ran about, their laughter trailing through the breeze, and the smell of fresh earth and wood lingered in the air like a promise.
"This one here," Khisa said, pointing toward a bustling settlement, "we call Wendo. It's mostly made up of former nomads and displaced families from the east. They chose the name—it means 'journey' in their tongue."
Azenet smiled, her eyes lingering on the neat rows of homes. "It's beautiful. There's something hopeful in the way they build here."
"They're not just building houses," Khisa said. "They're building roots. For the first time in a long time, they believe they'll stay."
