Three days.
That was how long Riley had kept the rest of it locked away.
She sat on the porch steps of Julie's homestead with a mug of tea she actually meant to drink this time. It had gone cold anyway. She hadn't noticed when.
The twins were chasing Fall across the field. The frost had burned off the grass. The hills behind The Belle looked soft and green in the morning light, like nothing bad had ever happened on them.
Andy had his blanket tied around his neck like a cape.
It wasn't a game. He never went anywhere without it. And Andrew, running a few steps behind him, still glanced at the tree line every time he passed it, counting the ways out. He had done it in every room since he was small.
Children that age should not know where the exits are.
Riley had stopped pretending she didn't see it a long time ago. Pretending was a kind of lie, and she had told the boys enough of those to last them a lifetime.
It's just a storm. It's just a noise. Nobody is coming.
