Not weaker, but busier, thought Myrus. She thought of the hours he spent away from them. Hours at his work, hours she wished he could spend with them. At least they had special times like this. She felt thankful. She had her husband, her children, her home. Others had not been as fortunate. Other husbands had never come back from the long war. The bloody battle that the children knew nothing of had ended the year before Bracken was born. Thank God it's over, she told herself. It was only a fading memory now. She remembered those years. Kreswen left. Her heart was broken. She was lonely. Days of wondering what the future held. And now that future held her. The war was over, Kreswen returned, and the children entered their lives. Nerkush was prospering. They enjoyed a good life. She remembered her fears of the past, the rise of the Gray Power. Such a small country and yet it stood and shook its fist at the whole world. Nation after nation fell before its advancing armies. People feared the loss of Nerkush. This gave rise to rumors that the Gray Power was the Night Ruler himself, cloaked in the form of a man. But such thoughts faded in the face of the final outcome. The Night Ruler would never have let himself be overcome so easily. "Papa, no fair! You're using your other hand!" Kreswen had all three boys neatly pinned. He rolled off and they joyfully clambered on top of him again. With the help of the High Council, there would never be another war, Myrus reassured herself... the World Destroyer weapon would make sure of that. Its awesome power had killed thousands. Other nations trembled now, and stood in awe. If another nation discovered the secret of its power, no one would be safe. All of Ebbern would become a battlefield. Myrus thought about this possibility only momentarily. I will leave such matters up to the Council. I have my family to raise. Kreswen and the boys lay back on the floor, tired from their struggles. The boys breathed deeply, but only for a moment. " Can we watch the Video-tel?" asked Bracken, running to the mantle where it rested. "Accad Outlaws should be starting soon." Bracken switched on the power control. After a few hums and pops the Video-tel buzzed to life. The device was old and gave out a warbled sound at times. The announcer’s voice crackled through the set. "Now for another evening of adventure with Trob Rex as he once again pursues the Accad Outlaws." The boys' eyes lit up. Energy rays exploded in the background as the theme music built to a crescendo. Trans-rigs roared. Trob Rex tel-talked with his comrades over their two-way communicoms. Down alleyways and over rooftops, they could be seen relentlessly hunting the fierce outlaw leader, Kij Mista. Bracken pulled the velvet cushions from the storage cabinet and passed them around for everyone to sit on. Captivated, they watched as the plot slowly built to its inevitable end. Myrus glanced at Kreswen with a knowing smile, as they watched the intrigue on the children's faces. Trob closed in for the capture of Kij. But wait . . . at the last moment, a quirk of fate! Kij escaped to plot his evil again! The announcer's voice came on again over the thundering theme song, inviting everyone to listen again next time. Myrus stood and stretched, turning off the receiver. "Let's roast some crumpts," she said as she walked across the room and into the food module. The others looked into the fire as they talked and laughed about the funny voice the announcer had. As Myrus searched among the shelves, she wondered how the day had been for the others. She wondered if it would be worth talking about . . . it seemed they talked so little anymore. I'll just have to ask them, she encouraged herself. This moment is as good as any to work on the problem of family communication. Finding a round canister, she returned with the nut-like kernels rattling in the container. Placing the crumpts in a black roast pan, she set them over the flames. Smiling, she turned to her oldest son. "What did you do today, Bracken?" Before he could answer, Ditten, his younger brother enthusiastically began to tell everyone about the wogs he caught with several of his friends at the Stylar pond. Its surface had been frozen since barren-time, but they broke the ice and dropped their lines into the chilled water. They were so big! I caught six, Papa! Momma stuck them all in storage and we're going to eat them tomorrow night." Ditten's face gave off a glow of rosy excitement. "They weren't that big," teased Bracken. "There's only enough for half a serving." Ditten jumped up and tried to wrestle Bracken from his cushion. They laughed and squirmed until Bracken lifted Ditten up and dropped him back on his own pillow. "I caught twice as many when I was your age. You'll never make a wog-fisher," chided Bracken. Ditten was about to protest again when he too was interrupted. Five-year-old Kempec, the youngest boy, began an exciting tale about the Great Green Beast he had slain that day in the dark recesses of his clothing bin. "Oh Papa, it had great big black eyes and teeth this long!" He stretched his arms out wide. His deep brown eyes filled with the wonder of his own imagination. His blond bangs fell like a curtain resting just above his eyebrows. "But I stopped him dead with one shot from my power-thruster." The boy squinted, sighting down his finger and pulled an imaginary trigger. "He had three brothers. I killed all of them too!" he boasted. " Where do you get all these wild stories?" asked Bracken. "You sound like you'll be a writer for the Video-tel someday." "I'd like to do that." Kempec took on a note of youthful pondering. "I could write stories about the monsters of Accad. That would be fun. But ... really," he said knitting his brows, "I did kill the Great Green Beast and his brothers today. But they always disappear after they die." The others smiled at each other and then began to laugh. Kreswen took Kempec in his lap and hugged him. Ditten was about to go on again but Kreswen stopped him. "Wait a minute. Now you boys be quiet for a while. After all, Momma asked to hear from Bracken first!" Bracken leaned back in the comfort of his pillow and answered his mother somewhat reluctantly. "Well, as I was going to say, I had a good time with Silas today. I spent most of the afternoon at his house." Silas Yitha and Bracken had been friends for years. Growing up together, they had shared many warm experiences, not all of which their parents approved. "We played some free music for a while." Bracken grimaced remembering Silas' struggles with his instrument. "Silas has a hard time playing his stam. After a while though we came up with some interesting sounds." Bracken thought about the dark brown instrument he owned and had learned to Play so well. He loved to run his finger across the glistening silver strings and listen as the driving melody came forth from its sound box. He frowned again abruptly, remembering Silas' mother's reaction to their practice time. "I don't think his mother was too happy with what she heard," he said flatly. Myrus nervously shook the roasting pan over the fire. She was irritated with her oldest son. "I feel the same way!" she said. "Silas' mother and I agreed when she called me today that you boys should stop playing that kind of music. Aren't there better things you could be doing?" "You always say that," said Bracken. "It sounds so beautiful. I just can't understand why you don't like it." He found it more and more difficult to understand his parents' narrow opinions about life. Dejected, he stared into the fire. Kreswen, who had listened quietly up to this time stirred in his seat. Picking up an uncooked nut from the canister, he popped it in his mouth and stared at his son. He spoke slowly, "I agree with your mother, son. It may be fun, but it's a distraction from more important things. And just because something is fun, doesn't mean it's right." Kreswen's temples had grayed with the years, but his face was still young. He had grown older yet still he possessed a youthful attitude along with his gentle wisdom. Right now though, it seemed unfair to his son. "At your age, you need to think about more than fun. You need to be more responsible. You're a young man. It's time to set goals for yourself." Bracken nodded submissively. It was those goals that made him anxious. Bracken realized he didn't want to be like his father, even though he loved him. His father's care was genuine, as genuine as the simplest sweet song he so often played on his mouth flute at night to the boys before they drifted off to sleep. Yes, the love was there, but so was Bracken's determination to find his own life, to be his own man, to live and be the way he pleased. Even if it meant playing the free music his parents despised, he knew he must search for his own meaning in life. His soul had found a new freedom in its strange musical tones. They would never understand. Secretly, when his family was gone he would play the odd tunes on his stam. Someday he knew he would be free from this bondage to play what he chose, when and where he chose. "Yes, Father, I know you're right," murmured Bracken dutifully, "I'll think about what you've said." "The nuts are done," said Myrus cheerfully, trying to change the mood. She lifted the pan from the fire and shook the nuts in a wooden bowl and passed it around the circle. Kempec came over to where Bracken was sitting. His trusting face looked up at his older brother. "Are you still going to take me fishing like you promised?" "Of course," responded Bracken, reaching down and scooping up his little brother in his arms. "We'll have a great time and I'm sure you'll catch more wogs than Ditten caught today!" Bracken loved his family and sometimes he almost forgot his determination to be different. Looking at their smiling faces around the fire, his rebellion would melt, like a piece of ice on a mid-summer's day.