It was just too much work to try to sleep this night. Wenndolyne dressed comfortably but casually, then tiptoed down to the firehall and toward the kitchens. Perhaps some hot tea and a moment away from her rooms would change her thoughts and she could try sleep again in a bit. There was still staff on duty, even at this hour. It seemed that someone somewhere within the castle was always in need of the kitchen services and of course the Black Watch roamed about on their regular rounds.

A kindly elder woman in the kitchen fixed Wenn a small tea tray then gently shoo'd her back out into the firehall with it. It was strange for Wenndolyne to be sitting in the fairly quiet and darkened cavernous hall of stone. She sipped at her tea and only saw a couple of guards nod in passing, until an old fellow came trundling out to stoke up the hearth fires. He merely gave her a "Goodeve, mum." with a tip of his cap, then went on about his business. It didn't seem to strike him odd at all that she was sitting there in the wee hours, sipping tea.

With the tea finished, or at least as much as she wanted of it, Wenn returned the tray to the kitchen then set off down a dark castle hallway. She knew where the library was. Mayhaps there would be something boring to read, Wenn grinned to herself.

The room smelled of parchment, leather, knowledge and, well, dust. Wenndolyne picked up a candlestick and brought the wick to life from a wall torch. She was wandering along the shelves for a while until a deep voice cracked the silence and spun her around.

"M'Lady." The guard snapped to and bowed crisply. "I'm sorry to disturb, but we've had a report. Have you seen or heard anything unusual this night?"

Wenn gathered up her skirts in one hand and crossed the shadowed library, careful not to trip over anything. Her voice was hushed, a bit frightened really. "Nothing that wasn't from my own dreams." She tried to make her comment lightly but it sounded jittery. "What sort of 'anything unusual', if I may ask?"

The guard moved his torch and looked her over more closely. "Ah, Lady Wenndolyne, well, I'm sorry your sleep has been disturbed but there has been a report of possibly an animal loose here in the castle, at least, by the sound of it. We have yet to locate it."

Just then, in the silence between his answer and Wenn's next question, they both heard it. It did indeed sound like some animal, perhaps a cat. The castle had many cats that roamed the corridors. They were handy for keeping out less desirable small creatures but this one sounded pained, perhaps trapped and wounded.

Both Wenn and the guard exited the library and stood silent when they reached the hall. Nothing for a while, then the weak cry again.

"My lady, please, I shall investigate. You should return to your rooms. This could be dangerous."

Wenn was already creeping down the hallway in the direction she was sure held the sound and there it came again. "Hush." she hissed. "I think it's this way."

The guard blinked and might have become angry that she disobeyed his gentle command, but she was right, so he followed silently as possible, except for the creak of his leathers and boots.

Wenn was startled and in fact screamed as a door opened to the right, spilling light onto the floor in her path. She looked up, getting her eyes to adjust.

"Poet!"

The guard seized his opportunity. "If you will explain to the good Sir Poet what goes on, then I shall continue the search." Without waiting for a response, the guard made an abbreviated bow and hurried down along the corridor until his torchlight faded around a corner.

"Wenndolyne..." Poet's voice was tired or just soft in her presence. She wasn't sure. He could say nothing else. He could think of nothing else but how much he loved her yet wondered if he was the man who could give her all she deserved. He'd thought long on this tonight after he failed to find the Admiral and could glean no more about Simon. He kept seeing Wenn in the garden with Wolf. It both angered him and left him hopeless. He feared he was not her best suitor, yet, how could he betray his heart to say it? This rift had kept him awake and so he'd sat in his office trying to complete some remnants of paperwork, but accomplished very little.

"I have missed you so!'" Wenn wanted to throw her arms around his neck but couldn't because she held the burning candlestick. The best she could manage was to reach up and cup his face then tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

Sir Poet needed to change the subject, change his thoughts and change her closeness. "What did the guard speak of? What does go on here? Why aren't you sleeping?"

Wenn explained briefly what she could recall of her dreams, really only saying that it was more restful to be awake. She barely paused to breathe as she blurted out the rest and what they'd heard. As she did take a breath, the sound met their ears. It was slightly louder. Wenn's eyes flashed at Poet. It was NOT a cat or other animal. It was a voice! A very small weak voice, hoarse and crying and sounding much like the word 'help'.

Poet and Wenn both scrambled down the hallway, only by the light of her sputtering candle. This was out of Wenn's element. Bravery was not her strength, she thought, but each cry drew her closer. She would never rest now until she did whatever she could to find and help ease the suffering little voice. Poet tried to talk her into staying back as they proceeded faster, but she shushed him, just as she had done the guard.

The voice faded again when several guards, as well as Wenn and Poet, converged on one point in a long seldom-used corridor. It was chilled and wet here. The sound of dripping water was evidence that this wall was close to either the lake or the moat and to Wenn's mind, the water seemed intent on getting in.

They all hushed their echoed chatter when one of the guards knelt down with a torch to look through a small grate at the base of the stone wall. It was fortunate that the old stone in this small tunnel still held, for what the guard saw was a child, huddled and shivering.

What happened next was a flurry of activity. A guard warned the child to stay back. He and another guard kicked at the grate until it was finally set free of the stone. The space was too small to reach in and the child was too frightened and confused to be coaxed out. Sir Poet, not being clad in heavy leather armor, managed to get into the small tunnel to his shoulders. The whimpering tore him. He knew this boy. "Simon." He whispered. "Come, lad." Finally he felt frozen little fingers touch his hands.

Simon's curiosity was cured, as least for a while. When he dove beneath the water to play the monster, he'd caught a glimpse of some sort of gate a bit deeper in the moat. He went there to investigate. He disturbed the gate as he went past, catching his foot on it. It closed behind him and he was unable to move its rusted hinges again. He was running out of air then, so he followed the underwater tunnel, feeling with his hands, until he finally broke the surface into this slightly higher spot. He could breathe again, but he was lost. He'd called out for hours and hours until he had little voice left.

It wasn't until the wee hours that the castle was quiet enough for any to hear him. And thus, he was found. Poet wept with him. Wenndolyne wept with him. Simon finally collapsed in Sir Poet's arms then they were escorted to the Admiral's ship to tend the boy and see that he was comfortably tucked in for much needed sleep. The Admiral was understandably grateful. With the issue of Simon at hand, Poet thought it inappropriate to discuss his intentions toward Wenn. She would not leave Simon's side and had thought of nothing else until she herself was exhausted into sleep.