The afternoon sun hung heavy over Crescent Moon, casting long golden rays through the trees. River napped fitfully on a quilt in the cabin’s main room, his small chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms. Nova sat nearby, mending a tear in one of his tiny cloaks, when a sudden whimper broke the stillness.
She dropped the cloak immediately.
River writhed in his sleep, soft whimpers escaping his lips. His tiny hands clutched the air as though reaching for something—or someone.
Nova crossed the room in two strides, gathering him into her arms. "Shh, little one, it’s okay. Mama’s here."
But the unease didn’t leave. If anything, it grew.
The cabin door burst open, and Thorn entered, face grim.
"Something's wrong with the grove," he said without preamble. "The forest—it’s... crying."
Nov
