Role

Chapter 3

Taraks father, bursts through the door of his home north of the Feanwyn,
completely tearing it from its hinges. Removing his clothing he grabs large
wash basin and wrings the water from his clothing. Quickly moving he turns
to his wife, "Quick what ever you can find, catch the rain!". Reaching out
the window he quickly redirects the roof overflow to the large bowl, a sense
of hope crossing his face as the bowl slowly fills. "The rest of the water
quick quick, and bring our son." Emptying the various containers into the bowl
him out there is a small squeak as laboured breathing is replace by silence.
Lifting his head Tarak lets out a little giggle as he firmly grasps his fathers
thumb.