Teague awoke again (a-rithist) in his car. He looked behind him, and saw an empty backseat.
‘What the hell?’ said he. ‘What is going on?’
He heard bells in the distance (eadar-dhealachadh). A soft clang ringing out called to him. He noticed that it was not a headache-inducing clang, but a calming clang (gliong).
His eyes slitted, and palms began to sweat. What would he do now? He found himself going towards them by foot.
A kirkyard (cladh*) greeted him. He heard the bells. He looked to his left as a motion stirred. It was a child, no more than 8, freezing in the night air.
‘Are you okay? (A bheil thu gu math?) Teague said.
The child froze, and made a comical peep as he — judging from what little clothes the child had on which were rags at this point — tried to be still.
‘I’m not going to hurt ( ciùrr ) you.’
‘That’s what the last man said.’ The child squeaked. ‘I ran to the church, but no one answered. I thought they would help me.’
‘Let me call the cops.’ Teague day about 10 feet away from the boy. ‘I will not come any closer, I promise.’
The boy teared up (ghuil).
Teague called the cops, but they said that they would have to put the child in a juvenile detention centre to hold him for the night.
‘What do you think? At least you’d be warm.’