Louisa Loveluck Zakaria Zakaria The Washington Post

In the final days of Sahar Devdeh's life, her parents feared their hugs might break her. She barely moved. She was too weak to cry. At times, her doctor thought, she looked more like a skeleton than a month-old baby.

Fleeing terror in the Islamic State's last Syrian strongholds, tens of thousands of civilians have become stranded in harrowing conditions across barely functional displacement camps.

One evening in the early days of Syria's uprising, Mohsen al-Masri's band of activists slipped through the Damascus streets and waited for the coast to clear. Then they crouched down, opened their bags and let out a stream of color.

In the final days of Sahar Devdeh's life, her parents feared their hugs might break her. She barely moved. She was too weak to cry. At times, her doctor thought, she looked more like a skeleton than a month-old baby.

Fleeing terror in the Islamic State's last Syrian strongholds, tens of thousands of civilians have become stranded in harrowing conditions across barely functional displacement camps.

One evening in the early days of Syria's uprising, Mohsen al-Masri's band of activists slipped through the Damascus streets and waited for the coast to clear. Then they crouched down, opened their bags and let out a stream of color.