Snow pulled a queen out of Henry's deck of cards, shuffled them, and dealt them out while explaining the rules of Old Maid. As she did so, a flash of long-forgotten memory hit Emma square in the face: an older girl taking a worn deck of cards from a shelving unit piled high with equally worn games and jigsaw puzzles with some of their pieces missing. Emma had no idea how old she was in the memory, nor did she recall the girl's name. All she knew for certain was that was the day she'd learned how to play War.
No parents taught her how to play childhood games. No older siblings or cousins or any other family members. No, Emma had been taught to play War by a similarly parentless little girl, who'd been taught herself by another foster kid. A little girl whose only connection to Emma was that they'd lived in the same group home and a little girl whose name Emma couldn't even remember.
"Is this sounding at all familiar to you, Emma?"
Her mother's soft voice pulled Emma from the memory and back to the present. She shook her head. Aside from the name, Old Maid did not sound familiar to her at all.
An expression that was equal parts sadness and pleasure lit Snow's eyes. It seemed there were certain things from Emma's childhood that Snow might be able to reclaim after all.
Three games of Old Maid later, Henry's eyelids were starting to droop. Truth be told, so were Emma's. David, who'd ended up with the single, unmatched queen this time, collected the cards and smiled gently at his tired family. "I think it's time for lights out."
That was totally fine with Emma, who nodded gratefully at her father's suggestion. Henry, on the other hand, blinked hard and rubbed his eyes before begging, "Can't we stay up just a little bit longer? Please?"
"I'm sure we'll talk for a little while after we turn the lanterns off," Emma assured him. She just hoped she could stay awake long enough for the conversation. She had skated past tired a while ago and was now well on her way to exhausted. She hadn't realized until this very moment how draining the day had been, physically as well as emotionally.
"Okay." Henry's word may have indicated agreement but his tone made his disappointment crystal clear.
Snow gave him a reassuring smile as she asked, "Does anyone need to go upstairs for anything? Speak now or forever hold your peace." Everyone held their peace, prompting Snow to remind them – mostly Henry but she said it to everyone – of the rule for having to run upstairs in the middle of the night: no one goes up alone.
One by one, the family got themselves settled and switched off their lanterns. The illumination in the tent dimmed little by little until all four of them were left in darkness.
Despite the added cushioning of the yoga mat, Emma still had to move around to find a comfortable position. She noted with some amusement that Henry was fidgeting just as much as she was. However, she hadn't realized just how much they were squirming until David jokingly asked, "You two have ants in your pants?"
"Sorry," Henry spoke up sheepishly. He stopped tossing, settling down on his back.
Emma, on the other hand, groaned. "Great. Now I'm going to be paranoid that ants or other little creepy-crawlies will be invading my sleeping bag at some point tonight. Thanks so much for that."
"You're quite welcome," David chuckled.
After one final squirm, Emma settled into a comfortable position curled up on her side. Soft voices filled the tent as her parents and son continued to talk. Henry was leading the discussion, rambling about how he'd never seen the ants go marching one by one or two by two like in the song. Ants were always in a clump every time he saw a group of them, but did anyone think they could be trained to march one by one?
Despite Emma's best efforts to keep her mind focused on the conversation, her eyes fluttered closed in less than a minute.
The next thing she knew, she was alone. She had been wandering through the woods by herself for what felt like forever. She knew she'd been out here a while because it was dark now and it hadn't been dark when he left her.
She was getting hungry, really hungry. The Brownes had said everyone could have a snack when they got back to their campsite after the hike. Emma had missed the snack and she'd missed dinner, and now she was hungry and thirsty and so tired from all the walking she'd been doing to try to find her way back to them.
Worse than being hungry and worse than being in the dark was being so alone. She was lost. She was most definitely lost but how come no one had found her yet? They had to be looking for her … right? If they were looking for her, why hadn't they found her? She didn't think she and Tim had gone that far off the path.
At first, when it was still light out, being lost wasn't so bad. It was scary, of course, because she didn't like being out here all by herself but it wasn't that bad. Now, though, there were noises in the woods, noises she didn't like. Noises that scared her. The rustling of things she couldn't see moving through the bushes, crunching through the dead leaves on the ground. The calls of birds and the chattering of the animals that came out at night.
Emma was in their world now.
She knew she should find somewhere to hide for the night but she didn't want to. Because if she hid, no one would be able to find her, and she wanted them to be able to find her. She didn't want to be here all alone anymore. She wanted Mr. Browne. She wanted Mrs. Browne or Adam or Natalie or Kevin. She even wanted Tim, even though he was the one who'd left her here in the first place. But most of all, she wanted her real mommy and daddy. Her real mommy and daddy had left her alone, too, but she didn't care. She wanted them more than anything else in the whole wide world.
Before she knew it, she was crying. She didn't care who found her anymore; she just wanted someone to find her.
"Emma."
She gasped, looking up at the sound of the voice. There was no one. She started crying harder. The voice must have been her imagination playing a mean trick on her.
"Emma."
There it was again, more insistent now, but she still didn't see anyone. She didn't understand. It sounded like someone had found her, but where were they? How come she couldn't see them?
"Emma!"
Her eyes snapped open as she awoke with a gasp.
"It's all right," Snow said, her voice soft and tender as she withdrew her hand from her daughter's shoulder. "It was just a dream."
A dream? It hadn't been a dream … not really. Was it a dream when the events of the dream were based in reality? Was that still considered a dream or was it a memory?
Emma sat up, breathing heavily and trying to push the feelings of being lost and scared and alone out of her mind. Her eyes darted around the tent as she tried to get her bearings. There was Snow, sitting next to her and looking at her through concerned eyes. It wasn't as dark in the tent as Emma remembered, and it took her a moment to notice that the lantern at Snow's side was on. She must have turned it on before pulling Emma from the dream.
Henry and David were both sound asleep, which left Emma even more disoriented. What time was it? The last thing she remembered was listening to everyone talk about the ants marching one by one.
"It's all right, Emma," Snow repeated, gently taking her daughter's hands in an effort to ground her.
The action worked. Emma's breathing slowly returned to normal. The intensity of the emotions of the nightmare faded in the light of the lantern, and the feeling of her mother's hands around her own reminded her that she wasn't alone.
"Good girl," Snow murmured when Emma finally calmed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Emma shook her head and gave a little shrug. "Nothing to talk about."
There was a beat of silence before Snow said, "That wasn't nothing. You were whimpering and muttering that you were sorry."
Just like before, another flash of long-forgotten memory hit her: a little seven-year-old girl with tangled blond curls and dirty cheeks and hands sitting on the cold hard forest floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, crying into her knees. Apologizing to no one and to everyone, to nothing and to everything, thinking that if she just said she was sorry, someone would come back for her.
"I was alone in the woods," she murmured, keeping her gaze averted from her mother's. "I just wanted someone to find me."
"Oh, sweetie," Snow whispered. Emma flinched at the pet name but relaxed when Snow began rubbing small circles on her back. "I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have pushed you to agree to this if I thought it would give you nightmares."
"I didn't know it would give me nightmares," Emma admitted, finally meeting her mother's eyes. "It didn't give me nightmares in the Enchanted Forest." Maybe because she'd had more pressing things on her mind in the Enchanted Forest. She ran her hand over her face and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "I feel absolutely ridiculous."
"There's no reason to feel ridiculous, Emma. I can't even imagine how awful those thirty-two hours had to have been for you."
She shrugged uncomfortably but before she could say another word, more soft whimpering filled the tent. Emma turned her head towards the sound and found Henry squirming in his sleeping bag, eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched.
Funny how quickly roles reverse, Emma thought as she leaned over and lightly gripped her son's shoulder to shake him awake, just like Snow had done for her mere moments ago. "Henry. Henry, wake up."
He shot upright, gasping, his frantic eyes searching the tent. The second his gaze locked on Emma's, he launched himself at her, throwing his arms around her tightly.
He was shaking. "Hey, it's all right," she murmured, returning his embrace and following her mother's lead of rubbing circles over the boy's back. "It was just a dream. You're safe now."
"It felt so real!" he cried, his voice trembling. "A woman with wet hair kept chasing me through my mom's house."
Emma winced, silently kicking herself. Kevin's story had apparently worked a bit too well. "Oh, kid, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that story."
"It's okay." He sniffled, pulled out of her embrace, and gave her a sheepish smile. "I asked you for the story, remember?"
"What's with all the activity?" David grumbled from the far side of the tent. He groaned, turning onto his back and flinging his arm across his eyes to block out the dim light of Snow's lantern. "It's the middle of the night."
"Two generations of nightmares," Snow whispered teasingly. At her words, David removed his arm and sat up, concern knotting his brow.
Oh, wonderful, Emma thought. Now the whole damn tent is awake. "And two generations of soothing those nightmares," she quipped. "Sorry for waking everyone up."
"It's not at all a problem, Emma," her father assured her, his concern fading just a tad at her joke. "Just as long as everyone is all right."
"We are now." After sparing a quick, reassuring smile at her father, she turned back to her son. "What do you say, kid? You think you're ready to try going back to sleep?"
Henry inhaled deeply and held the breath a long beat. "I am if you are."
She gave him a little smile of comfort before settling back down in her sleeping bag, answering him without words. Snow watched her two nightmare sufferers with a careful eye, only switching off the lantern after they'd both settled down and closed their eyes.
Just as Emma was drifting off, she felt Henry latch onto her hand and squeeze. She didn't know if he knew she was still awake, but she squeezed back anyway to let him know she was there if he needed her.
She forced herself to stay awake until Henry's grip around her hand relaxed. Only then did she allow the strong tug of sleep to pull her back under.