. . .

“Sometimes I eat things,” Edmund says. “But I never spit them up again. And every time I eat things, I get a little bit hungrier. One day, if I live long enough, I’ll be so hungry I’ll eat everything and anything even if I don’t let go of the wolf.”

“That’s not as good as the Tarzan yell,” Jane says sourly.

“I’ll try to do better,” Edmund says.

“See that you do,” she says, but she beams. Then she frowns. She counts. “Wait,” she says. “I thought Tom was going to kill the world. I thought he said something.”

“We are all . . .” Edmund starts.

Then he gestures, vaguely.

He shrugs. He pushes his hair away from his eye. “We are all that way.”

<< – 8 –

. . . >>