Chapter 25

The morning light seeped through the thick canopy, creating spotted designs on the forest ground. Chloe chuckled in my lap while I tenderly untangled her curls, her small hands clapping at the noise of a bird singing nearby.

She had matured. Not in the slow, daily manner that most children experienced, but suddenly—appearing as if it happened overnight. Only a few days prior, amid the unexpected assault, she had been no bigger than a six-month-old infant, her coos hardly creating intelligible sounds. At that moment, while she perched with her legs swinging over mine, she appeared to be nearly a year old, her eyes more vibrant, her actions more coordinated.

"Bird!" she exclaimed suddenly, gesturing excitedly at the trees with a joyful squeal.

I stood still, the brush remaining in my grip. "Did she merely—"