The youngest of the lot, six year old Mae, burst into tears again.

And following her lead the others began whimpering.

 Yuma shrugged at her haggard older sister resignedly but Madora steeled herself.

“Stop. Crying.” She grated. “I... am in charge here now. So stop crying, pick up what you can, hold hands and follow me. I’m going to take you all through this horrid forest to the nearest village we can find.”