In the cool darkness of a small room, a tired woman nurses her infant, soothing him with foolish noises, willing his pale blue eyes closed. She is quiet, and she is lucky; the other children do not wake. Delicately, she lowers the boy back into the cradle, kisses his soft forehead, slips away across the narrow hall.
The baby sleeps soundly. He knows the warmth of his mother's touch; he knows who he is. But what is he, this meager bundle of skin and cloth?
Someday – a mentor, a murderer, a teacher, a coward.
But for now, simply a possibility.