Quietly, Quiggly stepped into the darkness as he stealthily approached and steeled himself to his intended deed. He glanced about, making sure nobody else was in the vicinity. As swiftly as Quiggly stepped, he felt the wind of the other's approach as a blast of warm air blew against his legs. Quiggly froze as the other's footsteps grew quieter. Finally, he peeked out from behind the tree and caught sight of Quiggly. Gulping, Quiggly recognized his victim. This was the one he was so keen to watch over and protect; it was the one he was to help him rescue him and his mother. But when he tried to leave his hiding place, he was so frightened that he would get caught that he stayed rooted to the spot. He was unable to move. The one he was to help and rescue was the very one that was now about to rescue him. Quiggly looked up into the face of Mr. Sludgefinger. Sludgefinger, oblivious to Quiggly's presence, stepped out from behind a tree. It took him a moment to discover his mistake, before he realized that he was about to rescue the young boy who was meant to be rescued by himself. When Sludgefinger saw Quiggly standing there, and before he even knew the full extent of what he was about to do, he quickly grabbed the young boy and yanked him away from the tree. In a flash, Sludgefinger placed the squirming Quiggly into a large sack he was carrying on his back. "I am sorry, but you have to help me! You have to help me rescue my mother!" Quiggly cried out. "I am trying!" Sludgefinger replied. The one he was meant to be saving was all he could think of as the wind whipped past his face and filled his ears with the whoosh of his own breath. The one he was meant to be saving but never got to. Quiggly looked out into the sky from the confines of the sack he was inside. Sludgefinger was carrying him away. Quiggly started to look down at his body. There were no wounds or pain, as though the fall had not even happened. His clothes were drenched in water, but the rest of him felt dry. He had no need to be afraid. Why had he been afraid to leave his tree? It was clear as day now. He was never meant to be rescued. He was always meant to be the one rescuing people from the dangerous work of Sludgefinger. Quiggly cried out. "Stop! I need you to stop! I can't do this on my own!" Sludgefinger did not stop. He simply continued to place a large sack on his back and then to turn and walk away, carrying the sack away with him. Quiggly fell silent. He felt ashamed of himself for letting him go. He was crying for his master and the one he was supposed to have rescued, but he was now being replaced by Sludgefinger. "Get up! You are supposed to get up!" Sludgefinger shouted. He took a step, turned his head and shouted once more. "Get up!" There was still no movement. "Well, he must be seriously hurt then," Sludgefinger said. Sludgefinger did not know that Quiggly was the one he was supposed to have rescued; he did not even know who he was. Sludgefinger thought that Quiggly was injured and no longer able to escape. "I am sorry, but we have a long way to go before I can bring you and your mother to the town. Are you bleeding? I am going to have to make a quick stop. I can't bear to see you injured." Sludgefinger started to run. The speed at which he was running was terrifying. He looked back over his shoulder and could see the sack he was carrying slump to the ground. Sludgefinger ran even faster. Quiggly felt terrified and ashamed. He wanted to run from this terrible place. He wanted to disappear into the nothingness. His hands and legs were tied, and he was strapped to a chair. Sludgefinger looked at him closely as he came closer. "We have to get you up. I need you to leave this place as soon as possible." There was desperation in his voice. "I don't want to do this. Let me go. I don't want to go to the town. I don't want to leave you. Please, let me go back to my tree and lie down with my mother." Sludgefinger looked away from the boy who was crying. "You see, the problem is that I can't let you leave here." "What?" Sludgefinger looked directly at him. "I had some problems today and I am not at all sure I can help you escape this place. You need me to get you out of here." "Where is your sack?" "I dropped it." "Then you need me to get you another sack. The one you had on your back. I need to go get it." Sludgefinger looked at Quiggly in disbelief. "And where do you think I am going to find a sack that large?" Quiggly's eyes widened. "There is a large sack near my tree. The same one you were intending to throw me into. You need to get me that sack. When I left, I must have brought it back to my tree with me." "You have the sack? You have already got what I was going to give you?" Quiggly had stopped crying. There was a new sense of confidence in him. "Then get me out of here. I want to go back to my tree. I don't want to be out here with you. You made me feel scared and horrible." Quiggly smiled at Sludgefinger, who looked at him in surprise. "What is it?" Sludgefinger said. "I don't want you to leave." # XXVII # A SCRAP OF STONE SLUDGE- FINGER was still in disbelief at the thought that Quiggly, whom he thought was a slave in need of rescuing, had stolen the sack from his back. He had intended to use him as a slave, but now it seemed that Quiggly had saved him, a master in need of a slave. "How did you manage that?" Quiggly looked away, for the first time showing fear in front of Sludgefinger. "I am sorry I asked," said Sludgefinger, trying to make Quiggly feel more comfortable with his questioning. "Don't hurt me!" Quiggly cried, more out of fear than out of any actual sense of safety. "I won't hurt you," said Sludgefinger, though he realized now that Sludgefinger had no real control of his own actions. He looked down at Quiggly and realized that Quiggly had done this before. He wondered how he could have been so brave, before, without fear and without hesitation. He smiled. There was fear in his eyes, but not fear as much as shame. This boy had suffered at the hands of his master. "I am sorry I lost my grip. I know you must have been quite scared out there. I do not blame you." Quiggly said nothing, and it was clear that his mouth was moving but that nothing was coming out. Sludgefinger realized then that there was a problem. He had not actually lost his grip on the young boy, because Sludgefinger had never been carrying the young boy. Sludgefinger's arms and legs were tied, but there was no sack on his back. "I can't believe that you were carrying me. Where did you get me from?" "The young boy who was supposed to be rescued by me. That is where I got you." "And what did I do to deserve this? Did I save you when you fell?" "This boy has to get to the town." "But why?" "He needs to be there to stop the young boy who was meant to get rescued from breaking away. I have to do that now." Sludgefinger was talking to him as though he was a stranger. It was a new experience to him. It was as though he had forgotten the man he was meant to save and had only become himself. "But I need you." Sludgefinger walked closer to him. "You were never supposed to be out here, waiting for me to bring you and your mother to safety. I was trying to find a way to keep you in this world for as long as possible, so you would live a happy life. But you were always to be the one rescuing me. It was not me who was meant to be saving you." Sludgefinger looked deep into Quiggly's eyes. It was hard for him to see the fear in Quiggly's eyes. "But you weren't even hurt. You didn't break anything. What is wrong