Gloria was selecting clothes for little Dave when the warning bell shattered the air. Her hand froze mid-reach. She looked down at the boy and forced a shaky slow smile. "We must go back, my dear. We can continue this later."
Dave nodded, sensing the agitation in her voice. Gloria clasped his small hand and hurried toward her father's carriage, her stomach twisting into knots. Her eyes flicked to the towering white bell tower as she counted the number of times they hit it. One... Two... Three... Four... Five...
Too many. They only rang the fifth toll when death loomed over; it was when foreign forces breached their borders.
