n could trust around Amy was Quid. Having a child back home, the linguist had an idea on what to do and on what not to do.

But they knew this was different. Amy wasn't a toddler dressed in Stell's shirt, running around in the leafy slippers Jas wove for her—an art the post-grad learned from the locals during immersion. She was a child from a long-lost civilization who somehow survived through time and didn't die. A walking relic from another time.

A novel find, worthy of Laureen and her team's budget for next year. Penelope and the rest of the world would flip when they heard about this. Perhaps, Lieutenant Milton would pee his pants when Laureen pulled off the same trick Amy did to her back in the cavern.

But the questions remained without answers. Who was this child, and why was she stuck in a coffin whilst being alive? How could she have survived? Better yet, were there any more like her in the vast cave systems?

Laureen sighed and adjusted the ice pack against her skin. One question at a time. Maybe she'd find more clues when she got back with the rest of the team down there. But...where would they leave Amy? Certainly not with Milton or any of his army goons. She couldn't come with them in the caverns because that would be yet another headache. She might fall to her death, disturb a colony of bats, or get stuck between columns of stalactites and stalagmites.

Her being in the cabin was simply exhausting enough.

Laureen closed her eyes and stood up, setting the ice pack down. Her next goal was to clean up the boards which had been their pantry before Amy decided they were the perfect obstacle course. Thankfully, Jas was able to catch her when the rusty nails gave way to her weight, but the post-grad wasn't able to save the jars of condiments, powdered stuff, and Quid's prized salsa. Laureen tried her best to help, but she only caught the backend of the salsa jar with her face. Hence, the ice pack and the throbbing mess on her forehead.

To hell with salsa.

Stell was still upset with his snacks evaporating, but he had gotten farther in the shard clean-up than Laureen ever could. "Help Jas with the testing," Laureen yanked the broom from the intern and took over the job. "We need to have them analyzed soon."

The shards clinked against each other as Laureen shepherded them towards the rickety dust pan. These materials came with the cabin, and the owner had been kind enough to leave them here. Now, she stared at the salsa-stained ends of the broom made from dried straw in disgust. The powdered milk and protein shake stuck to the bloody red salsa, forming unholy clumps. It's worse than bat poop.

Which reminded her—she never really got the extensive bath session she promised herself. Bummer.

When Laureen finished cleaning up the mess, the floorboards were more or less back to their original condition, albeit the smell of cocoa still permeated when one focused enough. Quid had stopped running around but was confined to the corner of the room where he and Jas held Amy down. Or at least, tried to.

Amy squirmed and wailed because Stell had the courage to stick a needle through her arm and was now drawing blood. Relief passed through Laureen to find red liquid sloshing inside the syringe. If it came out green, she would have panicked a second time. Stell's face was pinched in concentration as he used his anthropology knowledge to use.

The girl only calmed down when Stell pulled out the syringe and she saw Laureen approach. Laureen studied enough of primate and human behavior to know the girl somehow found comfort in her presence. Kind of like imprinting.

"We got the samples," Stell said, wiping his hairline with a free hand. On the counter beside him sat the racks of vials containing Amy's blood. "What's next?"

Laureen opened her mouth to answer but Quid's potbellied frame zipped in front of her. "Store it for now," he said. "We'll have to conduct an emergency meeting tonight."

Confused by the sudden change of hierarchy and Laureen's inability to fight it, Stell scratched the back of his head and carted the vials towards one of the signs their team were from a different time period. The fridge's door slammed shut, bringing with it the reign of silence for all parties involved.

Laureen took one look at Amy, felt a lump in her throat build up, and turned away just as quickly. She stomped out of the cabin, throwing a weak excuse over her shoulder. Probably I need some air, or something. She made it into the porch overlooking the baubles of green, pink, and yellow.

The screen door behind her screeched open before whizzing shut with a cheap, metallic bang against the door frame. Heavy footsteps trudged behind her until they rested somewhere to her left. It's Quid, judging from the thump of his moc toes—a sound she memorized over the years of being with him.

"What?" she snapped when he joined her by the porch and leaned against the balustrade. Her hands itched for a smoke, but she told herself to lay off. She promised Jed.

Quid sucked in his teeth. "Are you alright?"

The question jarred her. Why wouldn't she be? They had just found something to present to Milton and prove they deserved next year's budget. If anything, she was proud. "Why the question?" she asked.

She inclined her head to one side and faced her colleague. It never occurred to her how long and rugged his beard had become since he always had it. The dark circles under his eyes had tripled in diameter too.

If Quid was uncomfortable with this conversation, he didn't show it. Instead, he cleared his throat. "I know it hasn't been long since..." he stuck a lip out. "You know."

Oh, she did. Two years ago, she and Jed lost Riley. A child of barely one succumbing to an incurable disease—it's a tale as old as time. That's why Laureen had to take a sabbatical after working all her life for the last ten years, and why she still felt like a stranger in every dig she had been in after the funeral.

She underwent a phase back then—the only thing she and Jed were certain of. Every time she sees a girl about Riley's age, she just breaks down. Had panic attacks over it in public spaces and all. The doctors told her it's grief, and having studied humans and civilizations for as long as she did, she knew what to do. But, the time he took off from work told her she couldn't do them.

She understood Quid's reasoning behind his question. But why was he concerned now, out of all the times he'd had?

"You're holding up pretty well," Quid said again, taking Laureen's attention from her thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. "I suppose I wouldn't need to worry."

"Worrying is my business," she answered. "As a site manager, that is."

The linguist didn't look like he was convinced, but Laureen gave him a light pat on the arm and shifted her weight against the balustrade. A light creak echoed between them. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Two years is a long time. I don't get triggered by girls anymore. That's the truth."

"Besides," she continued, tucking the stray strands of red hair behind her ear. "We need to find out everything about that child and how we can possibly report the findings back to the university. 'Child found alive in the ruins of an ancient civilization'? How will that headline sound?"

"Laurie," came Quid's pointed tone, stopping her in her musings. "Are you seriously considering giving her to Milton?"

She knitted her eyebrows. "Wasn't that what we came here for?" she said. "To give those who shower us with funding what they want?"

"She's a child," he replied, as if Laureen had forgotten it over the course of their talk.

"From a lost civilization," she snapped right back. How could he have forgotten that? "They may be able to discover more about Cangabayi and the child if we give her to Milton. We get the budget, they get the headlines, the praises. It's a win-win situation."

Quid opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when he saw something in her face. Finally, he sighed. "Fine," he said. "It's your call, Doctor."

Their talk came to an abrupt conclusion when Jas' frantic scream echoed inside the cabin. "Laurie!" the post-grad yelled. "Amy chewed the cables!"

A string of curses not meant for a child flew out of Laureen's lips as she left Quid on the porch and stormed past the screen door. Whatever he insinuated with their brief conversation could go to the nethers. Laureen wasn't here to tend to ancient toddlers. She was here to report something back to Penelope and the University. She was here to save something that saved her when the world around her crashed and burned—her job.