Rowan
Shelly turned to look at me over her shoulder, the baby nestled against her chest in a sling as we walked toward the light beaming through an opening in the cave. She narrowed her eyes, squinting into the darkness behind me.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, trying not to disturb the sleeping toddler strapped to my back. “I haven’t heard them in a long time.”
Shelly swallowed, glancing back into the darkness once more before turning her head toward the light, her long black hair fluttering against her waist.
Our group was a strange sight. Otto was in the lead with his two eldest children, both boys, one ten or so, and the other only roughly a year younger but nearly equal in height. Abel was the eldest and was the spitting image of Otto, while Timothy was a startling mix of both of his p
