CHAPTER 8He didn’t put her to bed. Instead Kevin woke with the sun in his eyes, dirt on his face and the taste of dead ants in his mouth. Groggily he climbed to his feet and looked around. The big tent was tightly closed and he vaguely remembered having being thrown out sometime during the second bottle. There were other memories too, the touch of warm lips and rounded flesh, a heady perfume and caressing hands. But that must have been wishful thinking, he decided. An erotic dream induced by the circumstances and sent by the Gods as compensation for unachieved fact.
Blearily he looked around. The village seemed unusually active with little knots of men clustered in deep conversation. Unusually quiet too, even the children seemed to have ceased their eternal racket for which he was gratefu
