The waning crescent moon hangs low in the starlit sky, while a few fireflies still glow amid the verdure as sunrise draws in.
Low snores resound through the cave, mingling with the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves.
Almost everyone in the cave is asleep,
but sleep evades Neva as she sits uncomfortably on the thin, reed-woven mat beside a sleeping Mrs. Barlowe and Anna.
She exhales a slow breath as the dull ache in her abdomen sharpens again,
her baby's restless movements visible beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
A tear slips down her cheek, which she quickly wipes away.
It feels selfish with everything happening around them, but she aches to be in her husband's arms, in the comfort of their bed,
instead of sitting on the cold, dry, hard cave floor.
He had been reluctant to leave her when his turn to keep watch came just a couple of hours ago, but as an able-bodied man, he was expected to do his part and help protect the community.
So, she had insisted that he go with Mr. Barlowe, allowing the men from the previous watch to have their share of rest. Anna's father, however, was exempt from duty because of his disabled left leg.
She gently rests her back against the coarse stone wall, her lower back sore and aching beneath the weight of her belly.
The distant gunshots and screams have quieted now, yet there's still no sign of help coming.
At least she's safe here, with about fifty people gathered inside the cave and armed men standing guard outside.
But what of the people outside, those terrified and hiding, or those in an even worse state?
She knows her God is watching over them, yet still, she feels so helpless.
What if they have to leave behind the beautiful home they made?
But she's fallen so deeply in love with their modest yet cosy cottage, her blooming garden, the woods, the wildflower meadows, the waterfalls, the local shops, and the warm community of their church.
But did the thieves and terrorists even leave their home standing?
A baby's cry pulls Neva from her increasingly disturbing thoughts.
A few feet away, across the cave, a woman, still drowsy with sleep, pats her baby's chest.
When the cries don't subside, she finally sits up, scooping her little one into her arms and pats his back.
Neva glimpses her own future as she caresses her swollen belly.
Soon, she'll hold her own baby in her arms.
"Coming into a sleepless night, my dear?"
Her heart skips a beat at the sudden sound of the elderly voice.
Neva turns to find an elderly woman lying on her side a few feet away, her gentle gaze lingering on her.
She recognises her as Nana Gracie, the warm, elderly woman she had spoken with a few times at church.
"Yes," Neva replies quietly.
A smile tugs at Gracie's lips as she slowly rises to a sitting position, her thin white hair cascading down to her waist.
Neva carefully shifts to make room on the mat as Gracie moves toward her.
Gracie lowers herself beside Neva, her eyes drifting toward her baby bump.
"May I?" Gracie asks gently.
A faint smile brushes Neva's lips before she nods.
Gracie places her wrinkled hands on Neva's swollen belly and closes her eyes,
her lips moving in quiet prayer.
"The child seems rather healthy," Gracie says.
"You couldn't sleep either, Nana?" Neva asks.
"I wished to speak with you, child." Gracie takes her hand in hers.
"You remind me of the home I once knew."
"Your home?" Neva echoes, a little surprised. Wasn't Gracie born in Ziriri as well?
"Yes," Gracie says. "It has been many a year. The memory has nearly faded, yet since I first met you, I have been visited by these dreams. Though some are cruel, I find solace in them, for they let me remember the face of my lost younger brother."
Neva's gaze softens.
Gracie smiles. "I'm deeply grateful to you, my child."
Neva smiles back, unsure of what to say.
She doesn't know how her presence has yielded buried memories to surface, but truly, her Father works in mysterious ways, using His children to bring grace and comfort to one another.
"You should seek some rest now, dear," Gracie says. "The day to come shall be long and arduous."
Neva nods, watching Gracie rise and make her way back to her mat.
Gracie lies down on her back, a beautiful serenity veiling her face as sleep lulls her, hopefully toward dreams of her brother.
"Sleep well, Nana," Neva whispers, then settles into the narrow space beside Anna and Mrs. Barlowe.
She turns onto her side, one hand resting over her belly.
An instinctive prayer rises in her heart, for the safety of her husband, and for all those harmed, homeless, and afraid in this time of darkness.
Before she knows it,
a deep sleep pulls her under, where nightmares of the past and present blur into a fragile hope, where the black clouds are finally... finally far behind them.
Neva half-wakes to a chorus of muffled voices before the cold hardness beneath her reminds her that she's not in her familiar, soft bed and becomes fully awake.
Her blurry gaze slowly adjusts to the bright light seeping through the mouth of the cave, revealing people gathered a few feet away.
Surely, the explosion that shattered her serene afternoon with her husband had been real. So had the assault on Ziriri, and the refuge of the cave.
Anna, seated beside her, turns to glance at her. "You're awake, big sister?"
Neva smiles faintly, carefully rising to a seated position as a chilly breeze brushes against her bare arms.
Even in summer, dawn in Ziriri can be bitterly cold, goosebumps rising across her skin as she remains dressed only in her sleeveless coquette dress.
"What's happening over there?" She pulls her thin, coral-coloured scarf tighter around herself.
"Nana Gracie has passed away," Anna says, her voice solemn.
It takes Neva a moment to register what Anna has just said.
How can that be? She was completely fine… just a couple of hours ago.
She glances toward the place where people have gathered, the very spot where Gracie had been sleeping.
When a woman steps aside, Neva catches a glimpse of the still figure, shrouded beneath a grey blanket.
"Angel," comes her husband's voice.
Neva lifts her gaze to find Rhett walking toward her.
Worry flickers in her chest at the dark, damp patches spreading across his T-shirt, from sweat, or perhaps dew.
"Is your watch over?" she asks.
"Yes," he replies, his gaze shifting toward Gracie's still figure and the women gathered around her.
"Get some rest now," she says, patting the space beside her.
He complies, resting his head against the stone wall as he exhales a deep breath.
"How are things outside?"
She hands him the refilled bottle of water they had brought with them to the waterfall.
"For now, I think we've passed the worst of it." He opens the bottle before lifting it to his lips.
"When can we go back?" she asks quietly.
"They'll be checking farther out the perimeter." He settles the bottle beside him.
"If everything seems fine, we can go back home."
She remains silent, her gaze drifting toward Anna as she helps Mrs. Barlowe and the other women prepare breakfast from whatever they can make with the supplies stored for emergencies.
"Did you have a hard night?" He brushes her hair away from her neck before checking her pulse.
"Not much," she murmurs.
"Things will get better soon, Angel," he says gently.
"I know," she whispers, leaning against him as his arms naturally enfold her in a comforting embrace.
"What happened to her?" he asks, alluding to Gracie.
"I don't know," she says. "She seemed all right just moments ago. She even went out of her way to pray for me."
"Did she?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
"Mm-hm," she replies, her thoughts lingering on how an entire world could change in the blink of an eye.