"Parato..." the soft voice of a squirrel echoed through the cold silence within the dungeons. A black figure was crouched by a prison cell, grey paws clasping the bars, as he stared into the murky, despairing gloom beyond, struggling to focus upon the wretched captive. "Parato...please hear me" the quiet, repressively anxious voice repeated, as he pressed himself against the cold bars, stretching his skinny arm through the narrow gaps, struggling to reach for his friend.
Parato's eyelids flickered feebly, as the faint voice assailed his ears. His head lifted, and his eyes were dull with hopelessness. "I am ready...to meet my fate" he rasped, all youthfulness and joy flown away, for happiness was alien in this bleak, despairing place.
The black squirrel, always intent upon repressing his emotions, felt his own heart clench as Parato's glazed stare met his. "I am not a guard, Parato" he murmured, furtively glancing back to ascertain that he had not been followed, and had not alerted attention. Tone quieter, he clasped the bars "the guards are playing a game of cards, and have abandoned their duty, which is foolish for them, yet fortunate for us. Parato, I have come to free you."
At these words, Parato swallowed, then shook his head, hopelessness having consumed his soul "no...that would be impossible...you have no key...you will be caught." Desperate, he moaned "leave...leave and forget me. I am done for, but you can still live. Leave me...please..." There was a rustle Of chains as Parato shifted his head away, and the black squirrel reached one paw through the bars, struggling painfully to touch his friend, to offer comfort, however meagre. "Parato...Listen please" he murmured, managing to stroke the prisoner's shoulder, whilst his own arm begun to bleed, grazed upon the harsh metal bars "I will assist you to escape, and you will fail in dissuading me. I have believed in God, and still I do, yet I am unable to remain idle whilst he ignores the plight of my friend. I repeat, Parato, you will fail in dissuading me."
Parato gulped, then begun to gently sob, his chest racked with emotion.
"Don't cry, my friend, my dear ami,
We shall see happy times again, oh, so many.
Hush now, mon ami, and dry your eyes,
I wish for you to smile rather than sigh" the dark squirrel murmured, clasping Parato's paw through the bars, holding it tight, comforting, and reassuring.
The prisoner managed a faint smile, before using his unshackled paw to wipe at the many tears which had trickled from his eyes.
"I will free you" the dark squirrel vowed again, clasping Parato's paw tightly, and, at last, Parato nodded, a faint flicker of hope illuminating his eyes.
There was silence, interrupted only when the dark squirrel retrieved a handkerchief and coughed dryly into it. He swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise into his mouth, then shuddered, for the prisons were cold, chilled, freezing one to the core.
Parato leant his face against the bars, concerned "my friend, you aren't well, you should see a surgeon before you rescue me. Even a cough can become pneumonia in such weather." Then, he sighed, and murmured quietly "I assume it is still raining? I...do not know."
His friend replied "it rains still, and I am coughing merely due to dust." Both were lies. It was bright outside, and the sun was warm, yet Parato would only feel dismayed if he knew that he could not enjoy such weather, and the dark squirrel indeed was ill, and hadn't been coughing due to dust. "Do not concern yourself" he added, squeezing Parato's paw.
The prisoner smiled weakly, then suddenly murmured "my dear friend, will you embrace me? I long to feel your touch."
The dark squirrel blinked, yet agreed without hesitation, for it would be incomprehensible to deny the wish of a suffering soul. He spread himself against the bars, and Parato followed suit. Their fur pressed against one another, whiskers touching, and Parato buried his head into the dark squirrel's chest, eyes closing.
A few sharp exhales sounded from the black squirrel as he fought not to cough, yet he tightly embraced his friend, all discomfort soon forgotten.
Parato was weeping, his tears dampening the dark squirrel's chest fur, yet he was incapable of ceasing, consumed with misery and unhappiness.
The black squirrel blinked back his own tears, his chest starting to shudder with suppressed weeps, for the suffering of his friend was agonising to witness, more painful than any form of physical torture. "Parato..." he whispered, voice choked with misery "your suffering will cease. I will rescue you, trust my words."
He felt Parato shift, his friend nodding. Then, the captive squirrel moved back, his shackles clanking in the silence.
A sad smile appeared upon Parato's worn face "but please, first do visit a surgeon. With my ear pressed to your chest, I could hear your wheezing breaths, dear friend. I want you to recover from this ailment. Promise me that you will pursue treatment."