The Hole had been oblivious to the pair standing only a short distance away from its maw. At the sudden attention, it perked up. It had remained hidden, forgotten and dorment for so long, apart from the grumbling in its depths, it didn't know how to react. It smiled, as much as a hole can, anyway. In actual fact, holes can't smile. Their shape doesn't change unless affected by the elements or a big spade. This hole, the Hole, was different however. It began to glow.

Puddlebrain scratched her ear.

"Fleas?" asked Billy.

"What?"

"Every so often, you scratch our ear. Either you have an itch that keeps sneaking back, or you have an infestation." He shuddered. "A steam bath is known to help."

"I..."

Puddlebrain looked at her hand as if seeing it for the first time. She turned it, wiggling the fingers.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh?"

"I do that sometimes," she said.

"I know," said Billy. "I just said so. Does it mean something?"

"Yes,"

"Well?"

"What?"

"What does it mean? You witches are the worst!"

"Erm... It means something bad is happening. Or has happened. Or is going to happen." She shrugged, not realising she'd even been doing it.

"Well," sighed Billy, "that's comforting. At least you're specific in your madness."

The Hole, wondering how its luminosity was going unnoticed, gritted its non-existent teeth and squeezed a little more light up from its depths. Puddlebrain's finger was still pointing in its direction but they were too engrossed in their conversation to look that way.

"Fine," said the gnome. "Let's g..."

Now he looked. Now he saw the glow.

"It looks like you were right," he said.

"It had to happen sooner or later," said the witch.

Billy didn't notice her comment, or he would have leapt on the opening it gave him to make a perfectly sarcastic retort and ridden it all the way home. He approached the Hole carefully.

"Billy," whispered Puddlebrain. "Wait."

He ignored her. The light was warm. It was inviting. It made him want to touch it and climb down into its cocoon. Her sudden hand on his shoulder snapped him from his daze.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I..." Billy looked confused. He shook his head, blinking. "I'm going down that there hole, obviously," he said. "That's where you said, so that's what I'm doing. You joining me or not?"

Puddlebrain frowned but didn't say anything more. She simply nodded, wondering what it was about the strange light from the Hole that had so entranced her friend.

"Is that you?" he asked.

"Is what me?"

"That shimmering. The humming. Is it you?"

"I can't hear any humming and the light is steady."

"My ears are bigger than yours. My eyes too. Trust me – it's unsteady and it's humming."

Puddlebrain squinted to see if she could see any disturbance in the glow but it appeared to be at a constant brightness. She tilted her head to try and let any other noises slip into her ear, but all she could hear were their footsteps on the grass.

"It's not me," she said.

"Didn't think so," said Billy. "Too pretty."

They arrived at the lip of the Hole and looked down, the witch carefully lest she fell in and the gnome brazenly, seemingly not caring either way. He appeared to be shrugging on a coat of bravado to conceal his momentary lapse a moment ago, wrapping it about himself tightly so none of his uncertainty could leak out.

"Let's go," he said gruffly.

"How are we going to get down?" asked Puddlebrain.

It looked a long way down and, though it had faded somewhat from the general population's memory, she did recall it supposedly going on forever with a bottom that forgot to bottom. She told Billy this.

"What?"

"It's meant to be bottomless."

"Nothing is bottomless!" he sneered. "Except, maybe, your dunsicity."

"Dunsicity?"

"You're being a dunce. Dunsicity."

"There's no such word."

"There is now!" he snapped. "But stop being irrelevant. We'd best start climbing. We may be here a long time if, indeed, its bottom doesn't exist. A bit like your sense."

"Wait," she said.

She was a witch. It was about time she was witchy.

She raised the finger she had just pointed and pointed again, this time at the walls of the Hole. She flicked it a little and muttered under her breath. There was a low creaking sound and they felt a slight tremor beneath their feet. Something started to push through the ground beside them, looking like the spindly legs of an abnormally large spider. Billy winced and raised his foot, intending on bringing it down hard on the arachnid, but Puddlebrain stopped him.

"Wait," she said again.

Billy waited, keeping his foot lifted. He wobbled slightly but was unwilling to set down his weapon. Not that a gnome's foot could do much damage to something that seemed to keep on growing, but he'd do his best. Finally, the creature broke ground fully and revealed itself. It was neither a spider nor, really, a creature of any sort. Billy lowered his foot slowly.

"How is that going to help?" he asked, bemused.

"They."

Before questions could be asked the thing began to answer them by shaking violently. The creaking became a sharp tearing and a line appeared on its back. The line opened up into a rip that split it in two. When they separated, the shaking stopped. What remained was a pair of large, ten legged, wooden beetles.

"Climb on," said Puddlebrain.

"After you."

"There's no need to be scared," Puddlebrain smiled, though fear was certainly creeping up along her back, tickling it humourlessly. Whatever was waiting for them had stolen the villagers. It had taken her sisters. She needed to take them back. Fear was a joke with no punchline.

"Who's afraid? Not me!" Billy growled. "Gnomes don't know fear. Don't be passing yours on to me because it won't work."

"Of course not. I wouldn't dream of it."

"Why, exactly, do we need to go down there?"

Puddlebrain shrugged. Where else was there? She assumed the Grimace had led them there deliberately and hadn't just ejected them randomly. Besides, there was a light coming from its depths. That wasn't normal and, as such, bore investigation.

"Because," she said.

"Fair enough. Ladies first," Billy said. "Or, in their absence, you."

Puddlebrain poked him, smiling. The dry humour was their best defence and if they needed to hold it up like a shield, they'd die smiling.

Die.

Perhaps not the best word to use.

"Watch where you're shoving that finger," said Billy. "It's loaded."

Puddlebrain turned to the spider-like mass of roots she'd summoned and climbed onto its back. One of the legs reached around to hold her in place.

"Let's go for a ride," she said.

Billy shook his head but followed suit. Once they were both in place and secure, their mounts moved to the edge and began to climb in and down.

"What do you call these things?" he asked.

"Whatever they want to be called. I'm not going to argue."

"Briders. That's what they are."

"Briders?" Puddlebrain asked in between the oofs and umphs that were being forced from her with each lunging movement.

"Branches and spiders. Briders." Billy smiled, proud of himself and wearing the pride as a fake moustache to disguise his discomfort.

Puddlebrain didn't answer. She was holding on tightly, not entirely sure the slender length of wood wrapped around her was strong enough to hold her weight. She could see the gnome was gripping just as tightly as she was and gritted her teeth. She suddenly longed for some of Edna's bladderwrack soup with a double helping of Gemini's nonsense. She found it hard to believe she might miss the way things were. Being constantly reminded that she was the youngest, even though she was probably three times as old as any of the other villagers, had been tiring. So had the bickering. She'd found, since spending time with Billy that she actually liked the sarcasm. She wanted it back. She opened her mouth to say something that might prompt a suitable response from her friend but closed it again. Billy's brow was so furrowed she was sure you could plant potatoes in there. His eyes were shut tight and his knuckles were white. She left him with his panic and hoped, by the time they'd reached the bottom he had overcome it.

She hoped she had overcome her own too.