The oldest was Jared, at 18 he was tall and well built. His skin was tanned from working on the farm, his broad muscled shoulders presenting the epitome of masculinity. He had dark eyes, like his father, and a strong set jaw. His short cropped, wavy hair was a golden brown that complimented his skin well. Though he was three years my senior, I have to admit I was quite taken by him.

Next came the twins—Timothy and Michel. They were 15, my age, and that was about all we had in common. They were troublemakers, but quite a good laugh and though I knew to them I was just a silly girl, I enjoyed their company. The youngest was Caleb, the little boy I had heard whispering when I’d first awakened. At five, he was sprite and chipper all day long—until he needed his nap, of course. His father was pretty good at keeping track of such things.

Jordan Dautry was a fine man. He had a dry sense of humor that accompanied a razor wit and though he didnt often have much to say, what he did say was worth its weight in gold.