Ardal
The bats are out.
Their leathery wings flutter in the sky overhead, their dark bodies casting a silhouette against the pale morning light.
“Are those vampires,” Ezra asks, as we stare up at the sky, all of us rooted to the porch.
I take a drink of my coffee, letting its warmth soak into me before addressing.
"No, they're just little animals, completely harmless." I pat his head. "They're on their way back to their roost a little late, though."
I take a breath, trying to ready myself for the day.
"Okay, let's get going," I say, trying to break through whatever spell we've found ourselves under. I motion for the quints to hop in the van. They groan their useless protests, picking up their backpacks and lunchboxes with little huffs, and grumbling while they tote their thing
