There were five of them, and over the years they became a collective unit, hardly ever referred to as individuals and most commonly known 'that lot', 'them', and 'what have they done now'.
Ariadne was the youngest, though not by much. She was seven but acted far older. She was the spit of her mother, Audrey's dark hair falling in inky curls down her back as she skipped and laughed and softened everyone's hearts with her mischievous grin.
Jacob was only a few months older, just turned eight and already held the stern frown of his father. He'd inherited the best of both Jeep and Charlie, bright blue eyes and mousey blonde hair, and almost indistinguishable from his brother when he laughed.
Jamie was the girl stuck in between, in so many ways. She hated dresses, kicked off her shoes and was a real dab hand at tree climbing. The only other child borne of both human and angel, with grey eyes and a preternatural grace.
Both Sam and Evan were the ringleaders, the first to think up new adventures and the first to stand up and take the blame. They drove their parents to distraction, with Sam providing fast and hurried translations as Evan breathlessly tried to recount events of skinned knees and lost shoes with furious movements of his hands. It became something of an understanding amongst the people that had gathered to live amongst the shadow of the cliff face that when one of the goats escaped, it was them. When someone's freshly washed clothes were found sullied with mud, it was them. They were a constant pattern of grass stains and mud patches and angry scratches from clambering around in the rocks that littered the valley floor near the cliff side. But for all their misadventure they were the embodiment of innocence, would stop in a heartbeat to help out the elderly members of their community in their day to day chores, would fetch home injured birds and helped teach the other children how to read.
Their infamy was well deserved, they were loud, full of life and beautiful to watch as they ran and played in the long grass.
If anyone had doubted that their kind could survive, could flourish after the horrifying events that had nearly wiped them from the earth, all they had to do was look at their smiling faces, listen to their bubbling laughter and they would be reminded of how it was all worth it. There wasn't a day that went by that their parents were commended on their wonderful job in raising them, even when it was followed with a general remark that somehow one of the fig pies had gone missing from the bake house.
But they would just smile, would wait until they came and admitted their transgressions and accepted their punishments with good grace and humour, which was more than anyone could have asked of them.
They were looked on with pride, with hope, as the best of what humanity had to offer, the future of their race, shining bright and happy in the midday sun.