THE FERALS
By Tessa Harvey
Reluctantly Brodie agreed. He was shivering, his feet like ice blocks.
The downstairs fire had been banked up with coal the night before. A few pokes and fresh fuel had flames leaping high and a warm glow filled the room. Sunlight flooded in through the frosty back windows. It had little warmth, but certainly brought cheer to the small dark house.
Jake made himself coffee (at last!) and soon sizzling pancakes were melting the absolutely beautiful delicate frost patterns on the inside windows.
Such intricate patterns, like ferns he thought briefly, spreading Marmite on his son's pancake. For himself, he had bought jam - strawberry, his favourite. While Jake sipped his reviving coffee, Brodie gulped his own warm Milo, desperate to check under that mysterious sheet. Dishes could wait, thought Jake. So could beds and a second cup of coffee, he added ruefully.

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