“What’s that, Momma?” asked Henry as he pulled on my hand to propel me towards the rusting equipment near the trail.

“It’s from the Old Ones,” I said and felt a chill down my spine, even though I knew there was nothing to fear–not now.

“Really?” He looked on in awe at the rusting heap. It couldn’t fall apart fast enough for me.

“Yes. Have you learned about them in school?”

“No.” He looked up at me. “Who are they?”

A breeze blew shivers through my shawl. I squeezed Henry’s hand. “When we get home, love.”

“Let’s go!” He broke away and began running down the hill towards home.

I took another look at the rust and turned back to home. I pondered what I would tell Henry about the Old Ones when we got home. He was too young yet for all of the truth.