1128 words

**SIX YEARS LATER**

The little boy ran down the hallway with his drawing pencils clutched in his right hand and his drawing book stuck under his left armpit. Behind him was his crying three-year-old younger sister, who had vowed to have all his colour pencils to herself until she had used her hands and growing teeth to break each and every single one of them.

The only person Lucian could run to for refuge against Avery was his mother. He dashed into the kitchen and hid behind her as she stood by the gas cooker.

Jojo looked down at her six-year-old and chuckled. From the book and pencils...