Golden sunrays of late afternoon wash her with warmth after they've just traversed the cool shadows of rain-bedewed woods.
It's just her and her husband now as they walk toward their home, having parted ways with the other villagers they had sheltered with in the cave.
Yet, what surprises her most isn't the cop leaning against the roof of his police car, but the sight of their cottage, seemingly untouched by the bloodshed that had swept through Ziriri in a flood of ruin.
When the officer spots them, he straightens, studying them intently.
Rhett gently pulls Neva behind him, his gaze fixed on the officer as he steps forward to meet them.
"Do you live here?" he asks, nodding toward the cottage, his fingers resting casually against his belt.
"Yes," Rhett says.
"Officer Kendrick." He offers Rhett his hand.
"Rhett Lei," he says, taking Kendrick's hand.
"Is it only you two?"
Kendrick's gaze flicks toward Neva, lingering on her a moment too long for her liking.
"Yes," Rhett answers, a hint of irritation slipping into his voice.
Kendrick raises a brow at Rhett. "It's fortunate the damage isn't too severe. We're still investigating, of course."
He pauses for a moment. "Did you see any of the attackers?"
"We did," Rhett replies.
"How many would you estimate?" Kendrick asks, while Neva's gaze drifts toward a distant thicket, where smoke still billows from a ruined home.
"I'm not sure, Officer," Rhett says. "I'm afraid we can't be of much more help. Now, if you'll excuse us."
Kendrick nods. "I understand. You must still be in shock. Get yourselves settled. We've already secured the area," he says, turning to leave.
Rhett takes Neva's hand, leading her into their front yard, the familiar damp grass squelching softly beneath their feet.
Their garden is almost too radiant, purified by the brief rain, while the porch is
dappled in amber-red rays, as though persuading her that it had all been a nightmare, or that she is still dreaming a world into being as she wishes it to be.
The magical normalcy after such brutality almost knocks the breath out of her.
He stops then, studying their surroundings one last time.
"Do you want to take a bath or have something to eat first?" he asks, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the police car pulling away down the road.
"I'd like to bathe first," she says, placing an instinctive hand on her baby bump.
He smiles, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll see what I can make for us."
A small smile brushes her lips before she rests her head against his chest, his arms naturally wrapping around her in a cocoon of safety.
If she could, she would have frozen time at this very moment. So the hands of the clock pause, preventing them from ushering in another anarchy they remain powerlessly unaware of.
"We're staying, right?" she murmurs.
He says nothing for a moment before finally replying. "We'll leave that to tomorrow."
Her hopes cave into stillness, quiet like a graveyard, yet she still prays to her Father for His grace of tranquil in her home to last, and spread out into Ziriri.
He presses a soft, lingering kiss to her hair. "Even if we do leave, we'll find somewhere better. Your safety matters most."
What if there isn't one? One corner of the world that is truly safe?
What would they do then? No. She doesn't want to keep living in fear, always hiding.
A wavering sigh escapes her. Her faith is shaking again, stirring a horrible, horrible feeling in her chest.
It's like standing on a bridge of rusted, fragile wood, suspended high above the mountains,
their peaks shrouded in clouds, with the unknown darkness of a deadly fall yawning below.
"Angel," he says softly, even as his voice grows ever so rigid.
She lifts her gaze to meet his. "What is it?" she asks.
His gaze darkens with worry, making her tense.
"What is it?" she echoes, her heart beginning to race.
"The cat," he says, still holding her gaze.
She frowns before scanning the yard for the cat... for Ella.
The moment she spots her, she tries to make sense of what she's seeing.
Before she knows it, she's hurrying up the porch steps, his anxious voice trailing behind her as a terrible agony crumples her heart like paper.
But she neither hears nor sees anything except the tiny figure... her orange fur darkened with dried blood as she lies motionless on the floor, her lifeless blue eyes staring into nothingness.
A choked cry slips from her as she sinks to her knees, her trembling hands reaching for her.
Had she come here for me?
Did she think I could protect her?
Her little body feels cold, limp, and heavy in her arms as she cries, clutching her close to her chest.
Had she been waiting for me...
Just the morning before,
she'd given Ella treats and held her soft, warm body close to her chest as she purred in contentment.
She wishes she'd given her more, saving some for later that will never come.
If God would only give her back, if He would only bring back those children, those people whose lives had been so brutally stolen.
Right now, she can't understand Him. She can't.
Those who belonged to Him were gone to be with Him.
But what of those who hadn't lived as they should have?
What about Ella? Would she never… never see her again?
Soon, she would be buried and return to dust.
And she would have to live with fading memories, with all the wishes of what could have been.
His arms wrap around her, yet she can't feel his warmth, because it hurts. It hurts so much.