Morce, small, but friendly stood day dreamily walking not knowing where he was off to. The sun on his dark back, the wind full on his face. HE loved it. The only thing that troubled him was the dissapearence of his family. He thought nasty thoughts. How could they leave me behind? he thought with red hot rage. And then scare me like they did? A picture of his mother dead on the ground with fresh hot blood streamming from her soft neck. My mother was faking death. Right?[i] He tried to make himself feel better. He frowned. She is still out there looking for me and calling me to dinner. He knotted his head quite satifyed with the idea that his mother was looking for him. But the knot became a sad shake of sarrow. He finily sat with a "humf"