Quitetly, Quiggly stepped into the darkness as he stealthily approached and steeled his nerves. He was so quiet that the rats were not aware that he had moved, not so much as a flake of a leaf. A lone mouse stood in the middle of a thicket, a small field mouse, trying to understand what a mouse would not know. _Tunnel, Tunnel_... No, it was so much more than just a tunnel. "So the rat tunnels," he said in a low voice. "The tunnel leads to more of tunnels. I need to come back to this place again." Even though there was darkness and the sounds of footsteps, he felt as though there were so many things hiding in that moment that no eye could see. The rat had the advantage, at that point, because he knew the territory; not to mention the fact that they never knew when the rat would attack and try to kill. A sudden clatter made him turn around and face his attacker. Something huge and fast moved on all fours. With the speed of a wild animal, Quiggly turned around and tried to run away with as much as he could hold. A small cry could be heard on the night, but it was a cry that was drowned by the roar of the wind. "I came back to the same place this time. What kind of place is this?" he said under his breath. He looked down and then back at the field of darkness in front of him. The field of darkness was getting larger and larger and soon there was a dark mass that he could not see clearly. "I'm running towards you..." _Sssswooooooossssssssssss..._ Quiggly stopped moving because his body felt it was no longer capable of staying with his legs moving. The smell of his blood was beginning to fill his body, and he wanted to run no more. He had lost his mind at that point. He knew he had. "I don't know what kind of place this is..." In all those years of experiencing fear, not even when his stomach was twisted and his heart beat out of control. It was never this difficult before... Even now, with the cold and the wind, all the fears that he had at that moment, could have been wiped out by the feel of the ground beneath his feet. And even though he had the same thoughts that he had at the age of fifteen, he could not ignore the fact that he was not in his usual self. He was not the same Quiggly of fifteen years ago. Everything had changed. Everything. And he had not changed a bit. The cold breeze could not break the ice of the river with just a whisper of a sound. No matter how quiet he tried to be, it was still so strong. He did not understand why. "It's a very quiet place," he said out loud. And the answer to that question was not only in the wind and in the cold air, but also in the sounds that his old friend made. What was the first sound that he heard in that place, just before it all happened? What was the last sound he heard? Did you think you heard it? What were the smells in the air that got into your nose when you smelled it? What did you hear when you had no idea that anything was going on, but the noises are so loud that they made you wonder what you heard? What is the sound that would be heard in your ears if you heard it? A quiet noise that no one else could hear, in the distance of the night. And when did it happen? When did the sound stop? Quiggly could not remember all the details. He was standing there with the sounds of the night and the smell of the earth and the sound of all the voices that were all surrounding him. He did not know what was happening and did not know how to feel about it. Was this a dream? Or was this reality? The sounds of the night were all around. "The sounds are so quiet," he whispered. The smell of the grass and the trees was so thick, but he was not afraid. "What kind of place is this? What kind of place am I in right now?" He saw what was in front of him in darkness, although he knew it was there. He saw something moving in the shadows. And from that point he understood how the sounds became louder. It was so dark, but he could see perfectly what he was looking at. A person sitting on the grass, next to the small mound that was the burial mound. How did he even know what he had seen? Was it real or was it a dream? If he had to guess, it was real. He thought that it would be something different, but what he thought was not what he was seeing in front of him. It was the real thing. The sounds of the night were real as well. He could feel the feeling of cold in the air of the moonless night. He could not see the face of the person, but he could tell that it was a female. He could tell that it was a young woman. He could feel that she was so alone. "She looks sad," he whispered as he approached the dark stranger. The smell of the air was cold. The moon had not shone in many nights, but that night she had the full moon. She was facing the sky and was looking at the clouds. Her face was so beautiful, which was reflected in the shape of the grass and the grass around the mound. She was very thin and seemed so fragile in the eyes of Quiggly. She was very young but was still quite graceful in his eyes. The smell of the fresh grass was so thick and it looked so clean. She seemed to be very alone. And she seemed to be crying. Quiggly thought he was dreaming. "It's not a dream. It's real," he whispered. He stopped walking and looked at the female stranger, who was a few inches in front of him. "Do you know how sad I am?" the woman said. It was an easy question. "You are the sad one, not me," he said. "What if you were not me, and I was you?" "Then I don't think you are sad at all. And I am not sad." "I would be more unhappy than I am right now. I will fall into depression, just like that." She had her eyes closed and she spoke as though she was trying to keep her inner feelings from getting out, so that he could not understand. She was looking up at the sky and the clouds and even though he was so close to her, he did not know what the clouds said. "Why do you want me to understand how sad you are?" The woman became quiet and still. Quiggly felt that it was awkward to say anything. She was quiet and he was too quiet, but not so quiet that she would not know that he was around. "Am I a stranger to you?" he asked. She looked down at the ground, and then away from him. "No," she said after a short while. "You are someone I know." "I have never seen you before," he said, in his loudest voice. And he walked up to her, and got next to her. "Who are you? Why did you come here?" "Maybe I am here because of you," she said, as she looked down at the grass and the grassy ground. "Then I don't know why you are here." "I have always been here, right next to you. Every day you look for me, but you will never find me," she said as her voice dropped. "So, I will never find you." "No. You will never find me." "But maybe you will tell me, what will I find? What can I find?" he said. And he looked at her face, which was so close to his face, and he could see her tears. They seemed so silent, even though they were as loud as the sound of the wind. "Maybe I will be happy, maybe I will see the other world." "Can you see the other world? Can you see what happens to the people in the other world?" "There is no other world. There is only this world." "Do you want to see it?" The stranger became silent and closed her eyes. She was silent, as though the sound of the wind had never reached her ears. She was motionless, but not like a statue. She was motionless in her mind. _But what can I see? What if I am the crazy man who sees too many strange things?_ Quiggly thought. "I don't want to see the other world. I never want to see the other world. It is sad." "You can't see the other world," Quiggly said. "And you?" "I'm here." "And what about me?" "I don't know. Maybe it is the same