In the
bedroom of a child, Fiona stands idle and useless while her
companions tear at the wardrobe. There is the occasional grunt and
groan, and she's sure the sound of wood splintering will draw
unwanted attention, but it's not long before the one she thinks is
Larry is standing before her.
“We
believe,” he says, “that enough room has been created to
accommodate your passage.”
Fiona peers
into the wardrobe, examining the hole at the back.
“It's a
tight squeeze,” she says, “but I should get through.”
“Then let
us make haste,” he replies, “before our efforts are wasted by the
cruel light of discovery.”
