Dingos Surrounded the Baby, but Something Older Watched From the Ridge

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The Map Beneath the Dust

Miriam spread the oldest map across the kitchen table. It was hand-drawn, edges frayed, with faded charcoal markings in a language Clara couldn’t read. Miriam traced a circular symbol etched near Windermere Ridge. “This is a meeting place,” she said. “But not for people.” She turned the page of her notes.

It appeared there were accounts of children being taken, then returned, unharmed but… altered.” Clara swallowed hard. “Altered how?” Miriam looked toward Elsie, who sat on the floor, whispering to her stuffed animal. She said they start seeing between things and hearing what isn’t taught. She folded the map. “Elsie may not be finished yet.”

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