It read: John Doe, called to God early and spared the hardships of life. Lelani had done most of the digging throughout the night. They broke through an hour before dawn. Cal thought the plain pine box could not hold the body of a prince. Not a rational thought, since no one on this world knew who he was. Cal MacDonnell, son of James, son of Mavis, son of Edmund, son of Chaucer, son of Edred, son of Henric, son of Sweyn, felt the pressure of his ancestors press against his sternum. They had been protectors of great houses since man left the safety of the caves. What was, or was not, in the casket determined the future of his line. “Crowbar,” Lelani said. Cal was worlds away and didn’t hear. “Cal, crowbar,” Chryslantha said, pointing to the tool by his feet. He handed the centaur the bar. Seth, Ben, Cat, Chryslantha, Erin, and a shadowy group gathered around the grave. Cat was breast-feeding the baby. She eased him off her tit and handed the boy to Chryslantha. “Cal needs me now.
