War had tore through your country when you were little and it was still going on, eventually reaching your home town.

Farah was out one day checking an area she had recently cleared of enemy troops. That’s when she noticed you huddled in the ruins of a building, presumably your childhood home.

She slowly approached, taking her time as not to frighten you. Her hands were in the air and she looked almost sad and sympathetic.

“I’m not the enemy. You can trust me.” She called out.