With the lantern light showing the way, they reached the end of the cave where a great pool of pale green water lay. Small white fish darted around in the bottom. Bar-thur looked at them hungrily. “Might I catch a fish or two?” he snuffled.
“Certainly,” said Nonna. “First, we will refresh our drinking water.”
“A most excellent idea!” gruffled Hoopy. They filled their containers with the cool, fresh water that bubbled up from the spring in the cave's sandy bottom. The lantern filled the large room with light. As they looked about them in wonder, tall stone pillars lined the chamber's walls. They were slick, damp, soft, and melty in appearance as if water had dripped on them forever.
“There should be Phora down here. Perhaps we can find it!” Nonna said, looking into the shadows. “I think I see a jar against the wall. The bread is blessed.” She pulled the tall glass jar from behind a rock and opened the stopper. Inside was something round and brown-colored.
“We do not know ‘Phora’ or ‘bread,” barked Hoopy.
“This will hearten you!” said Nonna, reaching into the jar. She pulled out a circular object with writings on it. Breaking it into pieces, she handed a portion to each.
“This is delicious,” said Flur-Ella, in confirmation. Each of them felt a lightness of heart, which the bread imparted.
“May I catch fish now?” asked Bar-thur after his eyes grew wide at the taste of the Phora. He drooled as he thought
of fish.
“Of course,” Nonna laughed, as the bear waded into the water smilingly, splashed around and came out again with two fish hanging from his mouth. The others reached into their bags and dug out roots from the forest, sharing them with Nonna. Hoopy dug a soft round hole for himself and curled up in it. They blew out the lantern and slept, well-fed, happy, and heartened by the food and the Phora.
Pata-Pikki blinked at the darkness as he awoke. He was not used to such darkness but could faintly see his companions sleeping and hear their breathing. He would like to see what it looked like outside of the cave.
Walking toward the opening of the cave, he heard sounds above him. He cautiously continued towards the entrance of the cave. The sound of someone talking continued. Reaching the opening of the cave, he stood back and listened. Daylight crept around the slab which hid the entrance. The sun was shining around the cracks of stone. The sounds came closer. Creatures were talking in a language he had never heard.
Pata-Pikki turned and raced to the bottom of the cave. “Quietly! Wake up!” he woofed, reaching out in the darkness and shaking Hoopy and Flur-Ella. They both jumped to their feet. Bar-thur was instantly awake.
“What is it?” Nonna asked, sitting up.
“Creatures are approaching the mouth of the cave. I do not recognize their speech. We should be ready. It must be the Narflbots investigating the bottom of the wash.”
“They may overlook us, but what if they discover the opening,” worried Nonna.
Stowing their belongings, Pata-Pikki gruffed, " It is daylight outside."
“I will deal with them if they come down here,” wuffled Bar-thur. “I make horrible growls; my claws are still sharp. My Great-Great-Grandfather was a fearsome bear!”
“We don’t dare use a light, Nonna,” Pata-Pikki whined.
“Flur-Ella, can I hold on to you?” Nonna asked.
“Certainly!” Flur-Ella woofed. “Come with me.”
They climbed upward toward the mouth of the cave while Nonna held on to Flur-Ella’s marsh flower jacket.
Gradually hearing the sounds that Pata-Pikki had described, they whispered. “I don’t know what they are saying. They must be right outside!” breathed Nonna. “Perhaps it is harder to hear in here?” They approached the entrance. There was enough light that Nonna could see now.
“I will attack them if they are close,” whispered Bar-thur. “When they see me, I’ll growl, and they will run. I’ll chase them back to the Rolling Hills. You start in the other direction; I will catch up once they become faster than I am,” he bumbled, with a smile playing about his lips.
“What if they have the pointing sticks that injure?” Hoopy asked.
“They will be frightened and drop their pointing sticks,” Bar-thur said with conviction.
“Maybe?” said Flur-Ella, with a quizzically worried look on her face.
“I don’t like the idea of being trapped here,” Nonna chirped. “Nor of you going out there, Bar-thur. They may not scare so easily!”
“Be careful, Bar-thur! Call us, and we’ll follow you.” Pata-Pikki growled and motioned to Hoopy, who perked up his ears.
Bar-thur sounded ferocious as he scrambled from the cave. They heard yelling from the intruders.
Pata-Pikki looked out from the rock, wondering whether Bar-thur was as frightening as he sounded. When he did, he realized the intruders were not Narflbots but something else entirely.
“Stop, Bar-thur!” he cried out in alarm. “These are Wildings. Look at their clothing!”
Bar-thur immediately stopped growling and studied the men who wore shirts and shorts of the same material as Nonna.
“Please,” said Pata-Pikki, bowing low, “accept our apologies. We thought you were Narflbots when we heard
your voices.”
The Wildings looked at Pata-Pikki in surprise. “Who are you?” the shortest among them asked, and Pata-Pikki understood what he was saying.
“We come from the West. My name is Pata-Pikki, and this is Bar-thur. I heard strange words and was sure the enemy had discovered us. Narflbots have been hunting us.”
“We were practicing the ancient language; forgive us for startling you. We search for one of our people who is missing.”
“Whom do you seek?” woofed Pata-Pikki.
“A young Wilding named Nonna. She is the daughter of our priest.”
“You seek Nonna?” Bar-thur gruffled.
“Yes, do you know of her?” again, the shorter of the two men questioned intensely. He was blonde with chin-length hair. He appeared the older of the two young Wildings.
“Nonna travels with us,” Pata-Pikki barked. Searching deep within, he wondered whether he should have shared this information, but a sense of rightness confirmed it.
“Nonna! Where is she? In the cave!” shouted the Wildings.
They rushed into the cave, and a shout of joy came from inside. Soon Nonna came out with them, accompanied by Flur-Ella and Hoopy.
“These are my friends,” Nonna cried joyfully. “They are Scrufflings. They saved me from the Narflbots, who held me captive! I owe them my life!”
“Then we owe you our hospitality and far more. My name is Basil,” said the shorter man. “This is Samul. You must come with us to Mihael as our honored guests.”
“Lead the way,” Bar-thur grinned.
 

The Scrufflings were panting with fear. Bar-thur looked at his stomach, raw from hurriedly squeezing past the fallen slab. “That was close!” Hoopy whined, panting.
Nonna turned to her companions. “You have helped me so much. I apologize for endangering you! Bar-thur is right. The Narflbots are so wicked they would make skins of you if they caught us.” Tears filled her eyes.
Pata-Pikki turned to her, “This is not your fault. Of course, we forgive you. You had no choice. We picked you up and carried you away.”
“We struggle with fear, which tries to win us with bad thoughts. I am responsible for my choices. I was wrong not to warn you of the danger. I hear many more thoughts when I am away from my homeland and become confused,” Nonna cried.
“We forgive you as The One Who Lives would want us to do,” Pata-Pikki snuffled.
Flur-Ella went up to Nonna and put her arm around her. “Thank you,” Nonna said, hanging her head.
“Can you find the spring?” Flur-Ella gruffled.
“I don’t see where the lantern is. At least one, if not more, is here somewhere,” said Nonna in frustration.
“I lied when I told you they sent me to the Farmer Man. They did not send me. I took the broken part to him to surprise everyone; plowing needs to begin. Look at the grief I have caused! I know my family is worried about me. You have been in danger because of my foolishness and have lost your homes.”
“You could not help what happened to you. I am sure your people love you,” Bar-thur replied sadly, “though it is heartbreaking to hurt someone you love.”
Nonna hung her head and cried. Flur-Ella cried with her. “I didn’t ask others. My actions hurt people who love me. I hope they can forgive me, and that you will forgive me.”
“We forgive you,” said Bar-thur.
“Yes,” said Hoopy.
A worry nagged at Pata-Pikki. “Wait here,” he whined. “I want to see what has happened with the Strange Contraptor.” Retracing their steps to the mouth of the stone cavern, he drew near the entrance. Outside, he listened to the voices of Narflbots above him. He realized they must have left footprints in the sand when they ran to the cave. Looking out of the entrance, he saw the tracks in the sand leading to the rock opening. The Narflbots would see them!
How could he erase them without being seen? To his surprise, a wind came down the floor of the canyon. Swirling in circles, it picked up sand, threw it into the air, hiding the footprints, and then continued down the dry riverbed, moving east. Pata-Pikki heard coughing, loud voices, and the scrape of metal. The Narflbots were going back into
the Whirly.
 He checked the impulse to run after the circle breeze and talk to it, as he had never seen such a wind, but the Narflbots were sure to see him. The canyons were very mysterious Pata-Pikki understood why Nonna had called it a fortress. Becoming lost in the canyon was a probability without guidance. Though the canyon floor appeared to be a straight pathway, it was confusing as they had passed turnings and branches.
Above him, he heard the Strange Contraptor starting. Dust filtered past the rock slab in front of the door. He coughed, thanking The One Who Lives for His goodness in sending the whirling wind. He descended deeper into the cave, looking for a lantern.
“There was a Strange Contraptor on the cliff above us,” Pata-Pikki barked. “They are gone. We are safe now. I searched the cave from the entrance and saw no lantern. It must be further on. Flur-Ella, lead Nonna until we find it.”
Suddenly, Flur-Ella pointed to a carved-out niche in the rock. They saw glass with a metal covering. Nearby was a bottle of something golden and a box.
“We do not have this - lantern, as you call it, Nonna. I see a glass with a metal covering. Could that be the lantern? Can you see it at all?” Pata-Pikki barked and pointed high up in the wall.
“No, I can’t see; it’s too dark,” Nonna sighed. “It sounds like a lantern.”
Bar-thur took the glass out of the niche. “It has something oily in it. There is a string coming from the top held by a wire. What should we do with it?”
“There must be a striker there, too.” Nonna laughed with relief.
Pata-Pikki nodded to Hoopy to hand Nonna the box. “Here, Nonna, can you understand this?” Hoopy gruffed.
“Yes, this is the striker.” Feeling the box, she slid it open and took out a long stick. With her finger, Nonna found a rough place on the side of the box. “Is there a candle? It will be a wax stick with a string on the top.”
“Here,” said Bar-thur, taking the candle from the rock ledge. He smelled the scent of honey in it and drooled.
Nonna ran the striker along the side of the box, and it burst into flame, illumining the cavern. She placed the striker on the candle wick, which burst into flame. Nonna looked around her. “Oh, how beautiful!” she exclaimed, gazing at the roof and walls of the cave. Nonna made the secret sign on her chest and said, “I thank you, Blessed One.”
Pata-Pikki was awed. Nonna knew the mysterious Secret of Power that The One Who Lives gives for help. “You use this sign?” he asked.
“Why yes!” said Nonna. “This is the sign of the High King.”
“Are the High King and The One Who Lives the same?” Pata-Pikki asked in surprise. “Perhaps He informs us both? Can this be true?”
“Yes, I feel this is right,” Nonna said. “The Lord, Yeshua, informs you and gives words to me. They are words that are true and filled with love. He blows where He wills and is a Mystery,” she explained with a slight shrug. Her eyes were as bright as the lantern. “When He spoke to you, I, too, heard the same affirmations. We must both hear the One.
Pata-Pikki would have to ask The One Who Lives about this. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought. He felt that Ultimate Truth and Love came to him through The One Who Lives’ words. He trusted those words as the only solution for what lay before him. The One Who Lives knew more than he did. Pata-Pikki knew it was better to ask before making choices. The closer he was to The One Who Lives, the happier he felt. Was this what Nonna was describing? The One and the High King were the same?