Back to the sack...

‘Ow...Ouch...Ah...Ouch!’ cried Ponkle through gritted teeth.

Boffwunglers were not designed to climb walls and Ponkle disliked the job intensely being petrified of heights.

‘Oeearggh,’ he groaned as he hauled himself onto a rather unstable window-ledge and paused for breath before feeling for the latch.

The window screeched as it was opened just enough for a creature the size of a Boffwungler to squeeze through. As Ponkle entered the room he took a good look around. His eyes darted to and fro across the unfamiliar space and finally came to rest on something in the centre of the room. The creature looked so peaceful and so....comfortable. It had been hours since Ponkle had last slept. He had nearly finished his rounds, after this he could creep home and catch up on some well earned rest.

He stopped as he heard a rumbling sound. It seemed to be coming from the next room. Yes, now he remembered. Sigworth had done this patch last night. He must have been at it again. He had mentioned something about testing it. He’d get found out one of these days and when he did, Ponkle hoped that he would be some miles away. Sigworth may be his cave mate but that wasn’t any reason to get caught up in all of this any more than he was already. Being known as a complete coward often came in quite handy. Folk knew what to expect of you in times of trouble. Very little.

He lifted the sack off his aching shoulder.

‘Sshhh!’ he instructed. Ponkle and the sack did not get along.

He tiptoed (which isn’t all that easy when you’ve got big flat feet) over to the bed. Oh, it did look cosy. Yawn.

‘I wonder what these creatures make their hammocks out of?’ he wondered and to discover exactly that, he lay down his heavy head at the foot of the bed.