Marro had been kept in the house for twenty fours and his mum had placed a watchful eye on him, making sure he never strayed far.
Marro had been so distraught and all he could think of was his dying friend in the forest.
What if he was now dead? Or they had found him?
He had tried his best to get away from home but his mother had monitored every single move he made, making it impossible for him to even do anything.
He had been so frustrated his skin was beginning to crawl.
Now his mother made him do chores while his father and brother went off with the pack.
It was either he washing clothes or mopping the floors or washing the dishes.
Whatever his mother told him to.
He was still very much upset with her because she was the reason why he wasn't allowed out of the house.
She had told him that she won't tell his father and yet she had.
He barely spoke to her.
When she told him to do something he did it without even complaining or looking at her.
