Quitetly, Quiggly stepped into the darkness as he stealthily approached and steeled himself for a confrontation. His stomach squirmed with unease. He felt ill at ease, as if something was amiss.
He saw a small child in the arms of an older man. The child was crying, but the man was smiling. His face was broad and he was bald, and he wore round spectacles. It reminded Quiggly of his cousin, but of course he knew they were completely different.
He slowly approached the old man, his fear slowly growing and a sense of anxiety deepening. The child was sobbing and its legs quivered with fright.
'My name is Quiggly,' the old man began. 'I hope that you will be a friend to me, for I am friendless.'
'That's good,' said Quiggly, 'for you look kind. In fact, you look just like a friend.'
'Well, come to me, Quiggly,' he said, patting the child's head. 'My name is Bunty. Look at my little friend. He looks just like you. He is called Jimmy.'
'Oh,' said Quiggly. 'You look a lot like a friend too.'
'Then I am!' the old man said, his smile bright and warm. 'So come to me and I will take you to my home.'
'I don't know,' said Quiggly.
'That's alright. This place is not for children.'
'But . . . '
'No buts, my friend, come to me and I will take you to the place where you will be safe.'
'But you don't look like a friend at all.'
'Who says I am not?'
'The cat says you are.'
'And what else does the cat say?'
'She says you are a liar and a thief, and that you will bring harm to me.'
'She has a very narrow mind,' he said.
'Yes, she does,' said Quiggly. 'Now come, we should go. She may be the cat, but she is not coming with us.'
'Okay,' said Bunty. 'Why don't we go, and if she is not too upset we will tell her how nice she was to us.'
'Oh,' said Quiggly. 'Well, I am afraid I have to go in this other direction.'
'Well, there is a time for all things,' he replied, 'and it may be that it is not yet your time to leave. In the meantime, have you never thought of me? Have you never thought of coming to me?'
Quiggly shook his head. He had been a little boy when the cat had told him about Bunty. He hadn't seen Bunty since then and she hadn't been talking to him about him recently.
'Come, then, let us go. There are worse places in the world than this one. Come, my little friend, and we will stay here together.'
'I wish I could,' said Quiggly. 'I have a cat that needs me at home, but she is my friend, you see, and I have to take care of her.'
'That is the way it should be,' said Bunty. 'The cat should be your friend, so take care of her.'
'You are right.'
'Yes, she is very nice, so we will go now.'
Bunty took the child's arm, and they entered into the gloom of the passageway.
'Where is he going?' asked Quiggly, as he looked back toward his own house.
'To a nice place, where he will not be bothered and will be happy and cared for.'
'And where is that?' asked Quiggly.
'If you had the chance to know a place that no one ever visited,' he said, 'would you be willing to go?'
'Where would that be?'
'I can tell you, but I cannot tell you where. I can tell you only that it is the place that you really want to go. That is the way it should be. So do not be afraid.'
'You are quite right,' said Quiggly. 'I think I will go and see if I can find him.'
'Yes, do. He needs you, but I am afraid you need me more.'
'No,' said Quiggly, 'my mother would be very upset if she lost me.'
'In a way, that is the reason why I am not worried about you. She would be very sad if she lost you. She has nobody.'
'Well, not everyone has somebody,' he said, looking at the cat that still slept in his lap.
'So she does not, and if she did not I am afraid she would be gone too. It would be very lonely and sad for everyone.'
Quiggly looked up at the old man. He had on a thin woolen suit and his glasses made his eyes look like huge green marbles.
'My mother thinks she knows everything,' said Quiggly.
'No, no,' replied Bunty. 'She only thinks she does. If she did she would think of you a lot, but her worry is her own.'
'You are a friend to me,' said Quiggly. 'You must be my friend.'
'Yes, so come to me, and you will find what you are looking for.'
Quiggly hesitated. He was already looking into the blackness that enveloped him. He could not turn around and go home. So he went on.
'I don't know if it is in this direction, but I am going to look.'
'Good.'
'You are a good friend.'
'Yes,' said the old man. 'That is what friends are for. Now let us go.'
'Yes, let's go. I don't like to be alone, and my mother, she needs me too.'
'Yes, but look for your friend. There may be others like you. We can all be friends. There are so many good things waiting for you, my friend, so don't be afraid. We all have to die someday, so let us live while we have the chance.'
'I think I will find a nice place here,' said Quiggly.
'I think so too.'
Quiggly reached up and placed his small hand in the old man's hand. He held on tightly to it and let his fears disappear in the dark.
In the dim light, she was a sad image of a young girl. She held a bundle of sticks in her arms, as though she was their mother and they were her children. She was a pretty thing, for her hair was thick and dark and her eyes were wide and innocent. But her face was hollow, and her skin had grown very dark from living out in the countryside.
And it was that sad face that watched and listened as she watched and listened to the small band of orphans outside of a large house. Her brother walked in front of her, a large sword held above his head. It looked so tall and heavy as it blocked the sun. She followed behind, holding a small hatchet in her hand. They had found it, along with a lot of other tools, among the tools that her father kept in the fields.
They had gone out to do the work of taking apart the house, so that the building could be taken down and burned. The little ones watched the men doing the job. Some had brought their families and would watch the house burning, while others just watched the orphans with the tools.
It was a sad scene, one that she knew would soon be complete and leave her brother and a few others alone and bitter. It would happen, and she couldn't think of a thing that would make her feel better about it. She knew that her brothers would seek revenge, and that there would be a great war among the three families of the land.
But what could she do? She had never been involved in any kind of fight and she did not know if she would be able to fight them. So she waited and hoped that they would finish their work and leave soon.
The house had great windows that were closed against the winter wind. They were
