A low rumble was making its way over the easterly hills.
tom
"What is it daddy?"
They stared at the crest of the hill through an upstairs window.
"I'm not sure poppet," he frowned. Disquiet oscillated; resonating.
The lights went out.
She clutched his shirt, anchoring herself to his beacon of stability; he smiled reassuringly.
"It's ok, it must be a big digger doing some digging - if it get's too loud we might have to leave!" He joked, emptily, "Better pack our bags!"
Vibrations could be felt through the floor now and panic stirred within, stretching it's noxious wings.
He grabbed a rucksack and began to stuff in clothes.