Foaly raced back to the Ops booth, once he had finished his soup, that is.
He knew Holly was not over the death of Julius, not many were, yet it had hit her especially hard. Deep down, Foaly suspected that her attachment to him had formed from the loss of her own father; Root had been the next best thing.
Now he and Trouble seemed to be the only ones left for her.
I must not let anything happen to Holly the centaur promised, and a plan appeared in his head.
After what felt like minutes, but was probably hours, Holly began to stir in Trouble's arms; she had quite literally cried herself to sleep.
An incredible peace washed over Trouble, one which he could not remember since before his father left.
Trouble, aged 14, stood opposite Alan Kelp, his father. Behind him lay his 8 year old brother, Grub, cowering in fear.
The front door clicked.
"I'm home!" called Lydia Kelp, arms laden with groceries. Her eyes took in the scene in front of her, the shopping fell from her arms.
"Alan? Alan, what've you done? Where are the boys?"
Alan Kelp took a step back from Trouble; a step towards Lydia.
"Don't you DARE-"
She was cut off once Alan had hit her, hard.
"Get off her!" shouted Trouble, advancing towards him. "Stop it!"
"Daddy please stop!" whined Grub
"Daddy you're scaring me!" Grub began to cry.
Their father took one last look around the room, and left.
Trouble looked at the sleeping Holly. She seemed so peaceful her delicate frame shielded from harm by his arms.
"Daddy's not coming back, is he?" Grub climbed in to trouble's bed.
A minute, maybe more, of silence passed.
"No Grub," he sighed. "He's not."