A soft scuffling sound pulls me from sleep. I blink against the dimness, my eyes adjusting to the cave's weak morning light.
It's the same as its evening light, just whatever's being given by the stringed lights across the walls. It just feels darker because waking should feel bright and sunny, not dim and… well, cave-like.
Sara's crawled from her little nest to the edge of the alcove, peering out to the main part of the cave. She slept with her hair in braids, and they're a mess, half-fallen off her head with large strands of hair floating in every which direction.
"Owen?" she whispers, too loud to be an actual whisper.
"He's not here." Jer sits by his rumpled blankets, knees pulled tight to his chest. He seems very vacant for a kid full of energy. Yesterday, he couldn't stop talking; today, he's… monotone.
