Another fireball scorched the land and I pulled further into myself. I could hear the others nearby. They were shaking, crying, some even praying. As if that did anything any more. When this had started, people had said the gods had abandoned us. I wish that had been true. It would have been a lot better. The very earth burned as we tried to hold out in one of the bomb shelters left over from one of the last wars of man. The faded yellow of circular symbol above the door was a reminder of the times when only man had tried to destroy man. One of the little ones crawled into my lap. I wrapped my arms around them without even checking to see which one it was. There weren’t many these days. Only three of the very young children were left in our group. It had been bad enough when the attacks had just come like this. Fire from the sky, storms, seas that literally fought us. Those things are bad enough. Then they started to come in the night taking the children and leaving sticks or leaves in their wake. We’d broken into the library to find out what was going on. Of course, the Tuatha de Danaan were stealing children. Glancing up, I wondered whether the one attacking now was Apollo again or a different one. Did it even matter? The gods didn’t abandon us, didn’t turn their backs on us. They turned on us.