Somewhere in the Acadian Empire.
A small wooden caravan rattled down the dirt road, its wheels groaning with each stone and pebble on the path.
A middle-aged man sat at the driver's seat, reins tightly clutched in his hands, urging the tired horses forward with a tense urgency. Behind him, inside the cramped space, a woman clutched her newborn son close, whispering soft words to calm his frightened whimpers.
A little girl with black hair streaked with orange and bright orange eyes leaned against the woman, who wrapped an arm protectively around her. This little girl gently cradled a small bird in her hands, seemingly listening to its soft chirping.
The air inside the caravan was heavy with fear, though no words were spoken of it. The family's belongings were hastily piled in sacks and crates, some half-open, as if they'd been thrown in without a care.
