Guy--Part Fifteen

Splog # 54

Fifteen

   At this point, Splog was not surprised to find that Guy had fallen asleep. His arms and head were sprawled across the stump. Earlier, while listening to Splog, Guy had propped his elbows on the stump and then rested his chin in his hands. Splog had continued reciting his story as he surreptitiously watched Guy's eyelids alternately drooping and rising as Guy fought off the steadily advancing onslaught of weariness until it gradually overwhelmed him. Even when the pyramid of Guy's arms had collapsed and his head had tumbled onto them, Splog kept on with his story in a gentle, soothing voice. He knew that his words were reaching some part of Guy's subconscious mind and that he would remember anything of importance that was being said. He also wanted to ease Guy into a deep, reinvigorating sleep so that he would awaken completely refreshed and capable of dealing with whatever demands a new day in a strange land would place upon his seven-year-old mind and body.

   He had talked for maybe nine or ten minutes after Guy had fallen asleep. Splog then started humming softly to himself. He went over to the opening in the wall that was low to the floor and spread the straw and leaves around to create a fairly even surface. He returned to Guy and bent down and gently slid the shoes from his feet. He then carried Guy over to the shelf and carefully, so as not to disturb his slumber, settled him on the mattress he had just prepared. He then returned to his place and sat, looking at Guy. After a while, a sad smile slowly drifted across his lips and then seemed to embrace his whole face. The child sleeping there, his entire small body so utterly relaxed, the slight rise and fall of his torso with each breath. The innocence and the vulnerability seemed to radiate from the slumbering form to Splog with such force that he felt a tear form in each eye and then slowly make its way down the irregular planes of his face until they stopped on his chin, where they either succumbed to gravity or they evaporated.

   Splog stood up. He needed to take a walk and try to settle some things in his mind. As he was about to rise out of his tree, he looked back at the boy. Yes, innocence and vulnerability. But also hardiness, resilience and bravery. Yes, he should be quite capable of doing what needed to be done.

   Splog stood on a circle in the floor near the wall of the trunk and was whisked up to the opening at the top. He then walked down the stairway of branches and started following the path the lady had taken after her formal farewell to Guy. Behind him, inside the tree, a small light blanket drifted down from above where Guy slept and neatly covered him from feet to chin.

   It was almost completely dark on the trail that Splog was following, but that meant nothing to him. He could walk in darkness as black as pitch and never trip on a stone or collide with a branch. That was just part of who he was.

   As he walked, he thought about the children.