“Mom, Ava is eating a slug!”
Scott Friedmann’s ears twitched back against his head. Some noises were harder to leave behind than the human’s annual fireworks celebration.
His wife Sonya rocked little Lexi on her knee and failed to respond with the same sense of urgency that colored their oldest daughter’s voice. “It’s all right, Sweetie,” she said. “It won’t hurt her.”
Hannah would not be dissuaded. “But it’s gross!” she said.
Scott chuckled. He turned away from the venison kabobs he was rotating over the campfire and took in the scene.
Hannah’s ears were flattened against her skull and her lips wrinkled away from her teeth. She held out a hand but hesitated, as if thinking through some way to get the slug out of the toddler’s grasp without having to touch it.
Mrs. Kirkland was the closest adult female, as well as a trusted babysitter. She smiled and patted her kn
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