Peter and his shadow, MacFie had walked a long, long, distance. Getting further and further from the orphanage, searching for Peter’s friend, Franklin who had runaway. Peter had found Franklin’s keepsake box along the empty streets, but that was all they could find. Peter was wondering if it had been such a good idea to be looking for him this late at night. He wondered if maybe he should have awoken Father Clery. He would have known what to do.
“How will we find him?” Peter asked MacFie.
“He couldn’t have gotten too far,” MacFie assured him. “We just need to go over here.”
The took a left turn onto a narrow street. It looked like a dead end, but being as dark as it was, Peter couldn’t tell. It lead them onto another street then onto another alley. The streets turned and twisted, running in many directions. Peter felt he was walking in an never ending maze. He was growing weary and worried about finding his way back to the orphanage. Suddenly without a warning, drops of rain began to fall. At first it was one then it was two. Peter didn’t notice and continued forward and just like that it began to pour. Peter and MacFie ran under a bridge connected between two buildings. It wasn’t long when something frightened them.
“What are you doing here?” shouted a gruffy voice.
Peter turn to see a bedraggled, old man standing nearby. He slowly approached Peter, looking rather displeased the boy was there.
“What are you doing here?” he shouted again. “I found this place first!”
He got so close to Peter, that he could smell the man’s filthiness.
“Didn’t you hear me, boy! Are you deaf!”
Peter could only shake his head no.
“Children aren’t supposed to be out here this late,” he said. “I could get a sum from you if I took you to the mill. Come here, boy!”
Peter shook his head.
“Run, Peter, run,” MacFie whouted. “I’ll distract him.”
MacFie flew in front of the old man, making him think there was somebody else there. The old man shouted something in the direction he flew and Peter was take off running. He didn’t care where he went as long as he got far away from him. Peter had heard the stories of children being sold to the mill and never seen again. He didn’t want that happening to him. He kept on running, making a turn then another turn. The rain had slowed down, but it didn’t stop Peter.