“Mama,” Benny shook me. “Something’s in the bushes!”
I must’ve dozed off.
It had been nice to have the campgrounds for ourselves.
“Perhaps a hare.” I tried. Would a campfire keep out cougars? I felt for my utility knife. Our only weapon. Ridiculous.
Benny frowned. “It’s crying.”
It was. My heart thumped as I stalked toward the sound.
My flashlight illuminated the tear-stained face of a child. A child?! She had to be younger than Ben. Alone?!
She shivered. Fear or cold or both?
“Come, Sweetie,” I cooed. “We won’t hurt you. Let’s get you warm.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers