The meteor was coming.
 
Oh, God, it was coming and she didnt know what to do. Her son, her beautiful little son, pressed close to her side, craning his neck to look up at his Mother.
 
Mummy, why is everyone moving? Theres plenty of food here. He asked in his sweet, innocent voice.
 
Because, my sweet, sometimes it is best that we move on. It is our way. She replied, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.
 
Oh. Her son said, turning his gaze to the fiery rock in the sky that would spell their deaths out for them, the old Triceratops told me it was cuzza that rock. He said the rock could hurt us real bad. He continued, not understanding what he meant by those words in his innocence.
 
Triceratops is being silly, he just wanted to tease you one more time before he left. She lied, choking on her tears. Oh, God, her son, her lovely son, was going to die not understanding.
 
Oh.
 
She turned her face to the meteor- it was close now. It wouldnt be long. Swinging her head around, she dropped her face to her sons and nuzzled him one last time. Lets play a game, yes? And then well go join the others. She suggested.
 
Okay! What game shall we play, Mummy?
 
Lets play pretend. We will imagine the sort of place we would like to move to, and when we open our eyes, thats where we shall be.
 
How do we play?
 
One last look at the meteor- it was almost time.
 
Close your eyes and imagine the place, and count to thirty out loud. Just like when we play Hide-and-Seek. She curled herself around her son, both of them now laid on the beach.
 
Ok, Mummy. 1, 2, 3, 4
 
She watched the meteor approach with sad eyes, and just before it hit land she turned her head, laying it and her neck over her son and bracing herself.
 
Her son had not yet said 30, but it was over.