Literature
Freedom
The cold of the night surrounded her, red fingers gently holding a newborn wrapped in swaddling cloths, crying softly. Carolina tried all she could to keep her little girl warm, but she could hardly do anything. The child would not sleep, and she didn't think she could last much longer on her own. In desperation, she licked her dry lips and began a soft lullaby, though she knew her voice was not very good. "Sleep, child, sleep. Let your dreams carry you. Haste, child, haste. To the world of slumber. Dream, daughter, dream. Of a world without a war. Sleep, child, sleep. And cry no more."
As she was singing, the flap of the tent opened, lettin