3
“Mama.”
A voice scratched against the edges of my mind.
“Mama!”
I sat up, tossing my blanket aside and grabbing the hilt of my knife. Finn was already at the flap of the tent before I could look around.
“Where is she?” the little girl asked.
“Who?” I crouched beside her, ready to leap to my feet. “Did you see someone?”
She shook her head. “No, but I want to see mama.”
“Oh, darling”―I slid my knife back under my blanket and out of sight―“I know it’s hard, but you can’t see your mother.”
“There’s no one outside.” Finn ducked back into the tent, curls of early morning mist lapping at his heels.
“Good,” I said. “So we’re safe. We’ve got our blankets and our tent, and we’re perfectly safe.”
“Is mama safe?” The child wiped her tears away with her fists.
“What name do you like to be
