“How do you do this, Quimby?”
Sapiens drew a shallow breath, swallowing. His eyelids were heavy as he tried to resist the sweet lull of sleep and force his eyes open. He needed to know where he was. As the blur in his vision dissipated, he could see a canopy of trees high above. He focused harder on what he could feel, hear, and smell; he was too dizzy to turn his head around.
Bit by bit, he started to understand that he was lying on grass. It pricked him ever so slightly through the heavy fabric of his tunic and the light shirt underneath. He could smell it too, along with flowers. As for the sounds, it took little to know it was his grandmother speaking, and she was crying.
Sapiens tensed. Why was she crying? Were they taken captive? Was someone threatening to hurt her or her grandson
