The small wedge of dark under the stairs. Footsteps above, pounding. One set stops on the step above them, patrolling an escape route, the rest run to the deserted room. ‘What the …’ A frustrated shout. The door is kicked. Pin’s eyes shine a new hardness in the dark. Sweat trickles. Balances on the end of Tidge’s nose. He needs to sneeze. Reaches across to Mouse’s hand and wipes the sweat with it and does not let go as feet, so many, race along corridors and kick in doors. The last pair step out of the abandoned room. Slowly, trying to work them out. The footsteps stop. Silence. Too long. Mouse shuts his eyes and mouths go away go away and the footsteps move off with thinking in their steps.
Unfurl the relief! Like a banner pluming into bright air! They are safe, they are safe.
The footsteps brisk up the steps and the noises fade and your little group uncurls except for the hand still firmly around Pin’s mouth. Then Tidge steps back. Hard onto Mouse’s foot. Who swallows a yelp. But drops the memory box.
It crashes to the ground.
They can only watch.
But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness.