But the bustling sounds of activity going on downstairs told him that there would be no peace to be found.Slowly he sat up, blinking away sleep and gl...ncing around at his bedroom as the cobwebs were shaken from his mind. Science fiction posters lined his walls. Books and comics had begun to form small mountains over by his desk while clothes where hastily thrown about. He’d have to do something about that before his mother pinched a fit.Stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, he slowly. The man was murmuring in his sleep. She didn’t recognise the language but she knew quite clearly that he was calling for his mother. She nodded to herself. That was as it should be. In extremity a man would always turn back to the one who bore him. It was as if they sought the safety of the womb. She understood this, she, whose womb was barren. Time passed. She grew drowsy in the warmth of the hut and forced herself to stir. She heated some soup and trickled some of the warm, thick liquid into. More

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