The year was 2011, among the outskirts of the unstable and shattered lands of the Syrian Arab Republic, its government violently cracking down due to unrest and instability. For a certain refugee, a mother in her mid-thirties, the chaos was both a nightmare and a test of her unwavering resolve. She walked through the dilapidated streets of Homs, her once beautiful hometown now reduced to a barren ruin, her small boy securely clinging to her side. The sharp smell of smoke and dust filled the air, blending with the far-off sounds of gunfire. The refugee maintained a low head and a steady look as she searched for any indications of danger, her heart racing with panic. Her son held tight to her hand, his big eyes conveying the fear and bewilderment he was still trying to process.

"Nggh... Yallah, Yallah!"

The woman said in a whispered shout towards her son, gently tugging him away towards an abandoned building. She brought him into the doorway of a shattered building, shielding him with her body as the ground shook with the impact of an airstrike. The walls shook now and then, dust and debris raining down around them, but she held onto her son.