"Let me just get a grip on this branch and I'll whittle you free." No!" he exclaimed. "Cut the braid if you have to, but leave the tree alone." Why?" ...utifully, I began plucking hairs from the branches without harming the tree. "It's just a tree." My warrior's braid took me a few years to grow," he explained, patiently. "But when this tree was a seedling, our ancestors were chipping stone tools and most still thought of fire as a dangerous novelty." How can it be that old?" I asked, plucking. "You might be wondering why I would even bother to placate this woman that was not only a drunk, certainly a part time whore that perhaps allowed her son to pimp for her, beside the fact that she wasn't even my real mother. Well the reality of the situation was, for the time being anyway, she was my (and Vicky's) only bread and butter. Without her we would both be out on the streets. So for now I needed to keep her happy, at least until I figured out exactly what kind of a relationship we had. More

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