By the time the sun hung low and the sky was painted with soft streaks of orange and gold, the island had quieted.
By this time, the babies were already worn out, rubbing their sleepy eyes.
Dante had guided them to two more spots: another meadow where the wind carried the sweet scent of blossoms, and a cliffside where the sea stretched endlessly before them, shimmering like a jewel. Each place had its beauty, and each one left Alina quietly amazed. The babies had played and run until their cheeks were flushed, their energy burning bright like wildfire, and now they were drooping one by one, some clinging to her hands, some leaning against each other, their little feet dragging.
