I stepped onto the porch, the wood creaking softly beneath my feet, and faced the sea of restless faces spread across the front yard. The morning air was thick with fear and suspicion, the kind that felt heavy on the tongue when you tried to breathe. The wind carried the scent of damp soil and uncertainty.
“Please,” I said, lifting both hands into the air. My voice trembled at first, but I forced it to rise above the noise. “Everyone, calm down.”
To my surprise, they listened. One by one, their voices faltered and faded into silence, leaving only the sound of the trees whispering behind the house. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect them to obey me.
A young woman at the front, her eyes wide and uncertain, stepped forward. “Lupa, what is happening?” she asked, her tone cracked and raw.
