Twenty-Three
Solma is still shaking by the time she gets home, but the sound of Warren crying jolts her. His wails are desperate and loud even through the closed door. Solma doesn’t think, just shoulders the door open, snapping the top hinge clean off. She bursts into the dim room, brandishing her rifle, expecting some invasion from foreign soldiers or a visiting Steward.
But the room is empty except for Warren, Mamba and Cobra, all of whom yelp upon Solma’s ridiculous entrance. Warren dives under the table, Mamba steps in front of Cobra with his fists raised and Cobra, apparently not as peaceful as she would have Solma believe, grabs and brandishes a kitchen knife. She drops it in the bucket with the rest of the dirty crockery when she realizes it’s only Solma.
“It’s alright,” she says
