He Sleeps

He sleeps, nestled against his mother’s chest, dreaming baby boy dreams. His mother kisses his blond head and inhales his sweaty-sweet aroma. Of all the futures she sees, his is closed to her

He stirs, his eyes flutter. She snugs the blanket up to his shoulders and sighs when he puts his fingers back in his mouth. She feels his muscles twitch in time with his even breathing.

To him, all is well. There are no worries beyond the nap. All is now, there is no was or will. His mother longs to experience this simplicity. Such a thing, of course, is impossible. Her guard must never waver. Vulnerability is not an option. Lack of confidence means death.

Another kiss to his fair brow. It is time.

She edges to a slit in the door. The street has appeared empty for hours, but it is the game they play. To them, it is a game. She is less than an insect in their regard. If she is destroyed, they will choose another.

Panic fights calm. For her son is to live, she must win. For him to be a free man, she must exceed all others before her.

She hesitates. Are they waiting around the corner? Maybe she lost them. She’d be dead by now if she hadn’t. Zephyr’s warning tugs at her. They’ve begun teasing the runners. Let them think they won. Take them down seconds before victory.

Still no sound from outside. No sense of nearby life, unless they’ve learned how to disguise that, too. Is that part of the tease, to let her think she retains her sole advantage?

The baby’s hand falls from his mouth, so deep is he in dreamland. She prays he lives to see a peaceful day.

She moves to the door jamb, presses her back to the wall. With what little remains of her source, she draws a misty veil around herself. As long as they don’t look directly at her, she’ll escape notice. She delivers a final kiss to her warm bundle then wraps her arms as tight as she dares. Using a slight source nudge, she opens the door just wide enough to slip through. She takes a shaky breath.

The little boy’s mother steps into the street.

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