 Jorg lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, his bottom lip curled in a pout. He rolled over onto his side and kicked his legs to struggle out from beneath his bed covers. It was cold. The little boy shivered as he sat cross legged on his mattress and stared at the wooden rail which was supposed to stop him from falling (and climbing) out of bed. Grabbing his wolf toy by its back leg Jorg began to climb over the top of the rail. He managed to get his foot over the top before he lost his balance and plunged the short distance to the floor with a thump. It hurt, but not badly; Jorg didn’t cry, his Papa didn’t like it when he cried. Nevertheless it took him a short time to shake himself and recover from the surprise. Climbing back to his feet, his soft toy still clutched tightly in his fist, he tottered towards his bedroom door. It wasn’t locked or even closed; Svea always left it open enough to let a small sliver of light through from the room beyond. Jorg could hear Nana snoring by the fire and he headed for the sound. He squeezed the fingers of his free hand into the gap between the door and the frame and pulled it open before marching out into the little corridor beyond.
“Where Mama and Papa?” Jorg demanded crossing his arms, wolf and all as he fixed his Nanny with a challenging look. It had been...well, he didn’t know how long it had been exactly but it felt like forever.
“Did I do bad again?” His expression softened into one of concern and he bit down on his lip as he glanced down at the floor.
“Can’t sleep,” Jorg complained, shuffling his feet, “Papa needs to fight monsters.” Jorg knew his father was very strong and that some people were frightened of him. Monsters would definitely be frightened of him. Jorg didn’t like monsters. His Papa had told him a story about a great giant wolf that would one day eat a man called Odd-in and end the world! Monsters were bad! Jorg had named the stuffed wolf his Papa had given him Odd-in so at least he could fight back!
Why did his Mama and Papa have to go away so much? They did visit but he never knew when they were coming. There was no pattern; sometimes they came when he was eating breakfast, sometimes for breakfast, and sometimes they came together, sometimes separately. Papa had finally given into his pleading last time and carried Jorg around the cottage on his shoulders. It had been really really high. He hadn’t been able to get a cuddle from his Mama though...it had made him cry and that had made them both leave and they hadn’t been back since.
“I sorry I cried,” he told Svea with big pleading miss-matched eyes, “promise I won’t if you make them come back!”
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