The sun hung heavy in the sky, a merciless eye watching the land below. The river, once a lifeline, was now a trickle—a shadow of its former self. What remained of its waters had become more precious than gold, and the divide between the two communities on either bank had deepened into something unspoken, but understood.

Kara stood at the edge of the river, her hands clenched at her sides. Across the water, a group of men from the neighboring village gathered, their faces hard with suspicion and distrust. She could see them eyeing her, and she knew they saw the same thing in her: a representative of an enemy, someone who would do anything to take what little they had left.

"Talk to them," whispered Jamal, the elder of her community. His voice was rough, like stones grinding together. "If we don't, they'll come for the river. We can't let it come to that."

Kara nodded, the weight of the task settling heavily on her shoulders. She had heard the stories—the raids, the clashes, the blood spilled over what used to be a shared resource. The river that once nourished them both had become a weapon, a symbol of everything that had gone wrong in the world.

With slow, measured steps, she waded through the dry, cracked earth and crossed the narrow bridge that separated the two lands. The men from the other village watched her closely, their hands resting on the handles of crude tools, ready for whatever came next.

She stopped at the center of the bridge and raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "We can’t keep fighting over this," she said, her voice steady but strained. "The river is dying. We both know it. But if we don’t share it, we both lose."

The leader of the other group, a tall man with sunken eyes and a scar across his cheek, stepped forward. "And why should we trust you?" he demanded, his voice like gravel. "Your people have already taken more than their share."

Kara’s jaw tightened. "I know you’ve suffered. We have too. But we’re all that’s left. There’s no one else coming to save us."

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, the only sound the faint whisper of the river, struggling to breathe.

Then, the man lowered his gaze, his eyes dark with the weight of years lived in survival. He looked across at Kara’s people, the parched land, the hollow eyes of his own community.

"We can’t keep fighting," he muttered. "Not when we’re all dying."

Kara exhaled, relief washing over her like a cool breeze. She stepped closer, lowering her hands. "We’ll draw lines," she said. "Agree on what’s fair. If we don’t, we’ll both end up like the river—fighting over nothing."

The man stared at her for a long while before nodding slowly. "Agreed. But if one of us breaks the pact…"

"We’ll all break," Kara finished. "Then there’s nothing left for any of us."

With that, they shook hands across the shrinking river. The water flowed, a bitter trickle, but for the first time in years, there was the faintest hope that it might last.