‘Where’s the kids, Grand?’ She pointed down towards the floor. Ar-Nen gasped. Fixing the candle on a ledge he knelt down and scrabbled at the earthen floor until he had uncovered a wooden trap-door. ‘You hid it really good, Grand, they would never have spotted it.’ Flinging the lid back, Ar-Nen peered into the darkness. ‘It’s me, it’s OK, come up now.’
Slowly the four little ones struggled out of their hiding place. The smallest was silent and wide-eyed, the next two shaking and weeping while the oldest, Ennet, said, ‘I kept ‘em quiet, Ar, I did. They was scared but we cuddled the baby and we kept quiet. What we going to do, Ar? Will the soldiers come back? Can we have some supper now?’
Ar-Nen stared around at his family, and deep fear seized his heart.

the dry well