Lost

‘Where are we?’ enquired George, sulkily taking in the new surroundings.
It felt like a great expanse of time had passed since they had been in the comfort of her bedroom yet she could not remember how they had spent it. She must have slipped into sleep during the journey. She wondered where this place was.
‘Home,’ replied Ponkle, who was studying each of the un-inviting tunnels which branched out from the underground cavern in which he stood.
‘Well, I haven’t a clue where I am and I’m certainly not about to run off. So would you mind putting me down now?’ said George frustratedly.
‘Oh, yes, sorry,’ said Ponkle, gently placing the girl down on the hard, rocky ground.
Ponkle paced around the cavern, surveying each possible route. To be honest, he hadn’t the foggiest where he was either. Of course, he came this way home regularly. What had really thrown him was that this was the first time he had returned in daylight and the sun was sending dusty rays streaming through the crevices in the white rock, illuminating the mass of tunnels, twisting this way and that - and this made one sorry looking Boffwungler very confused.