"When we get there, don't do anything that'll upset me," Neva said as she pulled up the zip of Isaiah's juniper green jacket.
She straightened her back and shifted her gaze to Rhean, who was sat on the edge of the bed.
Then she sternly said: "Both of you."
Rhean dipped his chin.
He was avoiding her scrutiny, still stricken by guilt of how he acted and hurt someone innocent, succumbed into the grievous spur of the moment.
Neva looked at him lost in sunken ponders.
"Come here Rhean," she said in a tender voice.
Rhean slowly gazed up at Neva—and saw her smiling softly at him. He aminably listened to her: climbing down the bed, little legs forming pitter–patter of steps as he neared his mother.
Neva holding each of Isaiah and Rhean's hand knelt down.
Then she carefully, affectionately beared them both in her embrace.
"Please be good to each other for me."
Isaiah leaned in to his mother, tilted head shored—cheek pressed on her shoulder. "Don't worry Mumma. I'll be a good boy." He uttered ardously.
Neva smiled and fondled his hair. "Thank you." The small of their head covered with wooly dark hair cradled in Neva's hold, closing her eyes; with her heart silently she prayed over her children.
It was after a fairly faraway moment that she pulled away. She tenderly kissed Isaiah's forehead, and then she went on and kissed Rhean's forehead with love.
Neva smiled, looking at her beautiful sons with warmth snuggling her heart.
She pulled the hood of Isaiah's jacket over his head. "But I'm hot Mumma!" Isaiah whined and attempted to pull back the hood but Neva seized his wrists.
"Nuh–uh. It'll be cold out in the open,"
She softly patted his cheek. "You have to be warm."
Isaiah pouted, but yielded in to his mother anyways.
She turned to Rhean, who was already dressed in warm clothes—and without complaints looking at her with those shiny, round chocolate eyes.
Rhean had dressed himself. He knew better than most his age of children.
He knew to take care of himself; for he was complied to learn of all things she should have instead nurtured him in this young age.
Neva felt heartsick at the abscence of a mother's care in all these early years of his sour little life.
And when the phase finally unraveled—for him to be showered with her love, she had instead bemired the peace around him and brought him great pain.
Neva took hold of his hand, mustering up a reassuring smile she lightly squeezed his hand.
For them...
And more for her that she should overcome this adversity; and achieve being a better herself, a wife, a mother, a better daughter.
And for that she would live and protect.
To connect and share this good word; the beautiful meaning to life of the saved.
"We have to put more layers on you." Neva caressed away Rhean's hair from his forehead, but she frowned at the coolness of him. Then she cupped his ears and felt them icy.
"You're freezing baby," Neva worriedly grabbed his bare hand again, but it was rather warm.
Rhean just looked at her demurely.
And Isaiah saw his mother feel Rhean's forehead with the back of her palm, then she immediately arose, heading for the suitcase mostly with Rhean's prerequisites.
.
.
.
There was the shore in a close distant.
In the end, after all... A shadow of lush forest evident to the naked eye.
The Island was around 200,900 kilometer square, with declining population of less than a hundred million erected over the darkened sea.
Miraeth without a spark of lumination to spare from being arced similar to a giant grim creature.
Miraeth prowled nefariously to devour the lone Cataraman boat advancing in a meticulous speed under the inked sky, bare of radiant celestial bodies to ordain a ray of light over in this murk.
And they stood watching on the deck.
By the railings.
In the howling of wind and flapping of white sailcloth fastened to the boat, harnessing wind and navigating water.
Neva and Rhett stood with their hands intertwined.
The cold swirling of air piercing the bare skin and fluttering the hair and clothes.
She squeezed his hand, absorbing the Island enlarging... Illustrating to her a mystery of the future. Of her concluding this purpose with a curse; or a blessing.
Rhett glimpsed down at her. At Neva who breathed in shakily, who seemed astray and afraid.
The side of her fair face to his enamored eyes. The wind flying, lacing strands of hair and veiling her beautiful face.
He lifted a hand and serendipitously tucked those free curls behind her ear.
Then she looked up at him. Her starry eyes threading with his.
His brows creased at the pooling of moisture in those rhapsodic almond eyes.
"We'll be fine Angel." Rhett whispered.
Neva glanced away.
The Island in the reflection of her paranoid eyes. "I can't help being scared." She felt her knees weakening, her soul wavering.
Rhett curled a finger under her chin and fastened their eyes.
"I know." He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.
"Whatever it may be, we are facing it together.
We will make it work. So don't be afraid." He murmered over her lips, swiftly planting a delicate kiss on her watercolour lips once more.
There was a wellspring of something about him. In him...
She circled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, his own hold tightening around her.
Words could not describe how glad she was to have him.
And Ishmael endured the scene enfolding below him.
His jaw hardened and eyes blurred. Each bits and smithers of the love bearing gestures binding him in needles and blades.
Then the lights went out.
And the smothering scene faded with the darkness. The Cateraman boat merging in with the somber night.
Ishmael was in the cockpit with Ace.
And Ace maneuvering the boat had turned off the lights to avoid scrutiny.
Based on Ishmael's dispatch, they were heading straight to a secluded shore, in the edge of the forest that cajoled an auberge.
For him, it was both a curse and miracle that they could make this far.