“Please,” she whispered to the baby. “Please, take this, please, please.”
Owen crouched down slowly so as not to frighten her and spoke as one speaks when one wants their voice to be an outstretched hand in the darkness.
“Hello, little one. I’m Owen. You asked for help, and you did the right thing.”
The girl blinked through her wet eyelashes, as if trying to decide if adults still knew how to keep their word.
“His name is Rowan,” she managed to say, gently settling the baby. “And he’s my brother, but I watch over him when Mommy sleeps, because Mommy’s always tired.”
Ow’s eyes
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