The bag contained three sesame biscuits, a candle stub, and a scrap torn from a book.
Bayu unfolded the scrap while they walked.
It showed a drawing of a lantern.
Beneath it:
A BORROWED SHAPE MUST BE RETURNED BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
The bottom half was missing.
“Is this yours?” Bayu asked.
Suri reached for it.
Bayu held it a moment longer.
“What’s a borrowed shape?”
Suri’s fingers curled.
From somewhere beyond the trees came music.
Small bells. A drum. The clink of cups.
“Please,” Suri said. “We haven’t much time.”
✧ · ✧
The path brought them to a table laid between two enormous roots.
Steam rose from bowls. A spoon stirred itself.
One chair scraped backwards.
There was nobody sitting in it.
Bayu stopped so suddenly that Iri walked into them.
A voice spoke beside Suri’s ear.
“You’re early.”
Suri turned.
Nothing.
Another voice, further along the table:
“Have you brought the light back?”
The pear lantern flickered.
Every empty chair turned towards it.
Bayu had never seen a chair turn its head before.
They hoped not to again.
“We’re passing through,” Iri said.
Their voice came out much smaller than usual.
“Excuse us, please.”
For a moment, even the spoons stopped.
Then a branch lifted.
Beyond it lay the path.
They went through without running.
Until they were out of sight.
Then they ran.
