Pete shivers, tendrils of frosty vapour coiling about his nostrils and rough-shaven mouth, his lower lip slack and plump. He doesn’t want to be her.... He wants to be home.“Where am I?” he asks. His frail voice is almost lost in the patter of the rain.From behind him, beside him, around him, a voice --feminine, warm-- speaks, “Where you’re supposed to be.”Slowly turning his head left then right, he sees no one and returns to gazing into the forest. “It’s so cold,” he says. “Why am I here?”Soft. “Then what is it?” he asked her, feeling confused.“She had such a perfect life growing up with a wonderful family, and I was abandoned; discarded like a piece of rubbish,” she said, her face crumpling again at the overwhelming feelings of loss the visit had dredged up.“What makes it worse, is her family were so caring; only wanting to keep her safe and happy, and it was like a hundred times better than I’d thought a loving family would be like. All those times I sat scared and alone, just. More

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