Later that day, when Cavar woke to find Mommy not in the house, he thought she must have gone to find food. He hadn't had food for a long time. He was hungry. But when he walked outside, he smiled. It was warm. In the yard where he and Rachelle liked to play catch with a ball of rags, Mommy was taking a nap. Cavar laughed.
"Mommy, why are you sleeping here?"
He ran over to her, but his little knees, lacking in the baby fat that should have been there, buckled and he fell down next to her. Mommy didn't wake up.
"Mommy? I'm hungry."
He shook Mommy's arm, but she still didn't wake up. Her arm felt funny. It was cool. And limp.
"Mommy?"
Cavar heard his big sister calling from inside. Rachelle was only two years older than he was.
"Mommy, the water's boiling." She must have heard Cavar talking to her. When Mommy didn't answer, she called to him.
"Cavar, where's Mommy?"
"She's outside. But she's asleep."
"Oh. That's weird." She opened the front door.
"Yeah. She feels funny, too."
Rachelle turned the corner of the house. She saw Cavar, who looked slightly worried now, shaking Mommy's arm. Then she saw Mommy. Her head had slipped down to lean on her shoulder, and she looked limp. Rachelle walked quickly, nervously, the Mommy's side and brushed her hand along Mommy's arm. Her tone changed when she spoke again.
"Cavar, let go of Mommy."
He dropped Mommy's arm and it plopped across her lap. Even though Rachelle was only two years older than him, suddenly she sounded like she was ten years older. She picked him up in her arms, struggling because he was almost as big as her and she was weak from starvation, and carried him around the corner so he couldn't see Mommy.
"Rachelle?" he asked, when he realized what was going on. "Mommy isn't asleep, is she?"
"No," his sister answered, with the heaviness no eight year old should have in their voice. "Mommy isn't asleep."
Mommy was dead.