Dawn began to break over the horizon, painting the ocean in streaks of orange and pink. Exhausted bodies leaned against one another in the boat, and the rhythmic rocking of the waves offered a strange, comforting lull. Meriem closed her eyes, murmuring thanks to the sea for keeping them afloat. Amal kept watch, eyes sharp, while Soufiane's thoughts wandered relentlessly to Younes.
"We should start planning," Soufiane said finally, breaking the silence. "If we head north, we can reach the Netherlands faster. My son… he's there. Seven years old. I need to see him."
Amal nodded. "Then we'll get there. But first, we need supplies and a safe route. This coast is unpredictable, and we can't risk another encounter with infected or hostile survivors."
Soufiane checked their meager provisions: water bottles, canned food, a few medical supplies. Not enough for a long journey, but sufficient for the next leg of travel. He plotted the coastline in his mind, marking potential safe harbors and abandoned docks. Every decision mattered; one mistake could be fatal.
The waves shifted suddenly, taller than before. Soufiane adjusted the tiller as the boat pitched violently. Amal gripped the sides, teeth clenched. Meriem let out a startled gasp, clinging to her sister. The storm passed as quickly as it arrived, leaving only the churning swell behind.
"You see?" Soufiane said, exhaling. "We survived. We keep going."
Amal smiled faintly, tired but resolute. "Together. Always together."
As the morning sun reflected off the water, the horizon seemed infinite. The city of Casablanca was a burning memory behind them, but the journey ahead promised both peril and hope. Soufiane's thoughts returned to Younes again. Soon, he promised himself, they would be reunited. The waves carried them onward, a fragile vessel of survival, determination, and the unbreakable bond of friendship.