Eiden sprung it on us at bedtime.
Of course he did. Kids have an instinct for when adults’ guard is down and their hearts are soft.
I’d just finished the third re-telling of “The Dragon Who Didn’t Want a Crown” (his current favorite), tucked Wolfie under his arm, and straightened up to turn off the lamp.
“Mama?” he said.
“Mm?” I said, half on autopilot.
“If we leave,” he asked, “who decides?”
I froze.
“Decides what?” I stalled, buying a heartbeat.
“Everything,” he said. “Which frog. Which trees. Which wolves. Who says ‘we go now’?”
His eyes were very awake.
“Gamma?” he added. “Kaiden? You? Council?” The last word was said like it tasted bad.
“Not Council,” I said immediately. “Never them.”
“Good,” he said. “Wolf says they pick bad frogs.”
I sat back down on the edge of the bed
