Her heart wasn’t squeezed quite so tightly, and all she lived for was the moment. The hunt. The kill. It was a peaceful, violent sort of exhilaratio...n. She reveled in the thrill of the hunt, and was deeply gratified to be doing something truly useful and necessary to their survival. The pressure of the bowstring drawn taut under her fingers, the arrow knocked back. The solid wood of the ash bow, thrumming with tension and potential. It spoke to her, a promise of food, of value and purpose and. Who is this?”“My name is Philippe Moritz. I’m a reporter for the Daily Tribune. I spoke with your mother earlier.”“My mother? I can’t picture her calling you.”“Don’t worry, she didn’t. I heard about your story from your neighbor and I contacted her to get your perspective.”Al’s phone buzzed, indicating another call, but he realized this call was too important to ignore. He couldn’t ask the reporter to kill the story if he kept him hanging. Not stopping to check who the other caller was, he. Then he stood up straight and proud.There was a moment of silence in the room.Ezekiel walked over to his sister, Constance, and stooped to kiss her cheek. The two of them ignored Hope who still suckled quietly at her mother’s breast.“You should uncover and unbind your hair,” he said to his sister.Constance nodded. “Will you help me?”Ezekiel carefully untied and removed the bonnet that concealed Constance’s hair and draped it over his arm. Constance reached up and removed the finely carved combs. The conversation had died down and I thought Katy and I were the only ones up. She would look back and laugh that all she could see was from my eyes up. She asked if the girls had fallen asleep. I looked toward each of them and responded, it appears so. Katy turned on the radio to keep herself from falling asleep. She hadn’t slept much as she was excited for our trip to the mountain. We were taking our kids for a fun weekend.After zoning out for awhile , I felt sandra’s hand reach on to my.