The darkness rocked and wobbled, and light rushed by through the tiny see-holes. Ro and I clung together, and I could feel that even Ro was frightened for once. He nudged me gently and I snuggled in closer.

“At least we’re still together,” I repeated his thoughts.

The Supremes’ voices could be heard outside of our darkness, and they sounded excited and…cheerful. Happy. I couldn’t work out whether that was good news for us, or bad news. Very soon, another noise permeated our darkness. It was a kind of roaring and humming and quite unlike anything we’d ever heard before.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Ro.
“Why are you whispering?” he whispered back, then spoke a bit more loudly. “It’s not like they can hear us!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I dunno. I just assume that they can’t.”

As if to prove him wrong, the see-holes darkened and a giant eye appeared trying to look in at us. The effect was wholly terrifying, and Ro and I squealed as one, then rushed to another corner of the darkness. A whole chorus of Supremes’ voices ensued and the eye disappeared. My heart beat so hard in my chest that I thought it would surely fall out.

Quite suddenly, the humming and the roaring stopped and the darkness began rocking and wobbling again. Then, after a gentle thud, everything stopped and we definitely weren’t on the move anymore.

“I don’t think we’re in Guinealand anymore,” Ro pronounced gravely. Despite myself, I giggled. Trust Ro to quote our favourite nursery tale at a time like this.

Beyond the darkness, all manner of things appeared to be happening. There was chattering and banging and rustling, and I could smell food and bedding. Ro sidled up to a see-hole but he couldn’t get the big picture so we remained in uncertainty.

Eventually, the sky opened up and the Supremes’ claws made a grab for us. Ro first, then me. There were two sets of claws, small, bony but yielding, but there were lots of voices and many more Supremes that I hadn’t seen before. I was transported swiftly from my darkness to…well, to a new home, I guess. Before I could even squeal in protest, appreciation, or otherwise, I found myself placed quite gently on a large pile of bedding and then it was done. The claws let go and withdrew.

Ro was already there, sitting quite still and quivering all over. A strange grid surrounded us all around and just the minute that I comprehended it set the limits of my new world, the last flap of it closed and we were safe. The Supremes stood back and looked at us, all four of them. There were the two littler ones, and two big ones that were unfamiliar. They stood in silence and for a while, nobody seemed to know what to do, not us, not them.

Then Ro took the initiative and fled into a hidey-hole running the length of our new world, and I followed suit. Darkness enveloped us once more and kept us safe.

We sat in the darkness and recovered until we were certain the Supremes had gone. Because, you see, when they go, the voices go, and so does the smell and then we’re truly safe. Ro cautioned us to wait a little bit longer, but eventually we went exploring our new world.

And do you know, this New Guinealand isn’t so bad. I’m quite settled here now. There’s lovely bedding every day, and lots of food. There’s a tunnel for me to play in, and lots of exciting sticks to chew on. I have a climbing platform with another food place tucked away in it. I’m warm and comfortable and I have a nice place to hide if I get worried. Every day, the Supremes come and talk to us and it appears that they like us and mean us no harm. Their voices are gentle, and so is their touch. They bring yummy treats every day, too, some green and some orange. I like the oranges ones best! Those are the highlights of my life, I’ve got to tell you. We didn’t have those in Old Guinealand at all. It’s heavenly, actually.

The Supremes like holding us and stroking us and there’s a sound in their unintelligible chatter that keeps repeating over and over and over. When I’m being held, “Yipyap” features in my Supreme’s chatter. I guess that means it’s calling me Yipyap. And Ro, they seem to be calling him Kip. I don’t know why. I mean, surely they can hear our names, right? But they don’t seem to and they insist on calling us by the names they’ve given us. We’re getting used to it now, and I have to remind myself that Kip’s name is really Ro. I’ve forgotten my own.

But it doesn’t matter. We were taken, and we have been delivered. I don’t need to be scared anymore. Life is good.

Meet your narrator!
Yipyap (left) and Kip (right) in their favourite plaything, the edible tunnel.

Did you guess?

Missed Part 1, Taken? Find it HERE.

What did you make of my venture into the Baby Rodent Point of View?