That night, I returned to my tent with my thoughts heavy. I turned the idea over and over, weighing the risk, and the opportunity.
I might have sat there until dawn, if not for the sudden ring of the device I had hidden in my pack.
The satellite phone.
I held it in my hand for a moment until it rang again. My hands shook as I pressed the button, the sound of static rushing into my ear.
And then—
"Mia? …Mia, are you there?"
My husband's voice, crackling through the storm of distance, filled my chest with warmth. I pressed the phone so tight against my ear it hurt.
"Yes! Hanes, I'm here!"
I sobbed as I tried to tell him everything—how I had been torn away, how I had fought to survive, how I had found a place among warriors and the clan. The words tumbled out, broken by static, but I forced them through.
"I've missed you so much," I cried.
"I miss you—" his voice broke, pieces lost to the signal. And then another voice, high and sweet, cut through.
"Mommy?"
