***

The wagon rumbled and crunched over the scupp shells in the sand. Each time Ann and Edward felt one of them crack under the wheels they shuddered. The hatching could begin at any time.

The two of them sat silent and tense on the hard wagon bench, their simple black and white clothing a sharp contrast to the dun of the beach dunes and the purple shells thrusting up through the sand all around them. Ann clutched her swollen belly protectively, though she knew she would not be able to save the babe within if the scupps hatched before the wagon reached the shelter of the cliff caves.

“We left too late,” Edward said. It had become a litany of sorts.

“We’ll make it,” Ann replied, because they had to try.

Edward struck the scaled backs of the placid undru pulling the wagon again. Ann could have told him it would do no good; the beasts were doing the best they could already. He glared at Ann’s belly before quickly looking away. His look cut Ann to the core. He’s wishing I wasn’t here with him, slowing him down. He wishes we had never tried to have this child.

Ann and Edward sat silent and tense on the hard wagon bench,

But I can't tell you why, any better than to say that it felt like you rushed in with the names, because the rule is you have to give the names as soon as possible. This could have far more to do with my feelings about rules than your writing though.