The next morning, the house felt different. The rain had finally stopped sometime in the night, and the air was cool and heavy with the smell of wet leaves and damp earth. Sun rays came in through the cracks in the wooden window shutters, but there was no joy in the light. We all knew what clear skies meant: It was time to leave.
I sat in the corner of the hall with Finn nursing in my lap. I held him close, rocking him slowly while he fed. My body still ached from the long walk we had all endured, I still wondered how the children were doing. I thought but the pain felt far from my gut. Thorne’s words from last night were still fresh in my mind: “You should leave after tonight. I cannot afford to bring that sort of trouble here.”
He had said it so simply, so matter-of-factly. I understo
