A small, soft amber glow filled the cool house, warming the old wooden furniture Their rusty iron nails barely held them together. The few chairs were placed haphazardly; the table was lonely, dust its only company. The walls of grey rock stayed smooth, the greyness of it all compressing the house, letting the glow illuminate its inside further.
    The darkness swallowed the rest of the world, and the window shutters creaking slightly with the chilly wind whispering through the unclosed window. Its silent voice tried to extinguish the quivering flame of the dying candle, muttering its unfelt curses when it refused to go away, to give up its soul to the unwavering monster of time.
     It stayed loyal to the child huddling up in the thin sheets. The blanket hardly shielded him from the biting night air; the pillow was worn and beaten by time, dried tears staining its battered body. The wooden frame threatened to give way, occasionally crying out as the child turned and tossed in his writhing mind. Its shrill moans went unheard, as the child slowly came back to reality, the demons flying away.
     In the old and baggy clothing he was given by his late father, he drew a humbled comfort. It held some warmth in it, trapping the comforting air within it. In the tiny chest locked away beneath the old bed was a silver pendant resting on a violet velvet cushion, a small family heirloom from his late mother. Around his neck, tied on a string, was its key.
     Looking about sleepily, he took in the familiar sight of his empty house. Still young, having lived three out of his ten years alone in the world, he thought he imagined a sound at the door. Shaking in the cloth his mother had patched together years ago, his dared not see and tried to fall back into sleep, to escape the spine-chilling surroundings.
      Knock. Knock. Knock.
      He tried not to hear it.
      Creeeeeaaaak.
      He pretended to sleep, visibly uncomfortable with the new presence. He heard its light footsteps falling and rising, its quietened breath supporting the creature. He felt it watching him intently, swallowing his fear. He saw through his closed eyes talons on the tips of its fingers, a bloody, fanged mouth unsmiling. Then, before the chill, he smelt dirt.
       A warm hand touched his auburn curls, its roughness also fleeting across to the pale skin of the child. Then it left to tuck the blanket about his feet, and put a larger and warmer cloth about him. The presence then sat and it examined him.
       Curiosity won fear, and he opened his sapphire eyes, only to see a stranger smiling warmly at him, a twinkle in one of his grey eyes. An eyepatch covered the other. His pale face did nothing to frighten the little boy, even actually giving off a strange aura that drove the boy even crazier with his intention of trying to find out who this person was.
       He then looked at the rest of this stranger. His trim and fit, but not muscular, frame was hidden in a colourful pinstripe suit, its colours mostly indigo, and a splash of orange at the ends of the sleeves. A dark stain spotted the left side of the stranger's tailcoat, though it was not big and obvious.  He wore, underneath the tailcoat, a cream coloured shirt, completed by a big red bowtie. His impeccably combed greying hair was hidden under the purple top hat, which had a maroon belt about it. The stranger was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a stark contrast to his scrutinising face.
        His strong jaw was covered by a sharp, grey goatee- the rest of his face was shaven. Then the stranger smiled, making his straight, pointed nose seem subtle as his grey eyes twinkled. "Hi, Benjamin."
        The child only stared, now truly afraid, for he knew his name.
        "Oh, where are my manners? Sorry, Benjamin. I am Gregory Smith- you may know me better as the Collector," he added the last bit with an edge of mystery, a sudden flash of betrayal in his eyes, then disappeared with the faltered smile regaining its life.
         "But I've never heard of you, mister," the poor child was speaking softly, hiding behind the blanket. He had never seen anyone else besides those in the marketplace, which he visited only on the days before the new moon would emerge.
         The stranger pretended to be surprised, though he did feel a little. He needed to complete his job that night: the children must be saved. "Oh, dear me! You haven't heard of me? Well, that's alright, then. I'm the elf that goes about the night taking children like you to a better place- yes, special children like you."
          A glint of fear shimmered faintly beneath the big, angelic eyes of the child, and of pure disbelief. The stranger sighed, then laughed. "Well, you're not the first to react that way. You'll get used to it sometime. Yes, I'm an elf, but I'm not of your community's. I'm of a different place, and I know you deserve a better place to live, Benjamin. Come with me, Benjamin. I'll take you." The stranger held out his hand, waiting for the child to reach out from beneath the sheets. He didn't take it.
           "Benjamin," he said a little more seriously this time, "You and the other children in this village are in great danger. The adults have sent for us to save you from the dragon and its wizard, and you need to come with me now, Benjamin." He then looked out the window, as if to prove his point.  "Come on, Benjamin," he said firmly, but the child knew he was pleading. Whether or not it was true, he had to trust him.
            Climbing down from the bed, the child fingered at the key about his neck. The stranger stood, and held out his hand once more, but the boy did not take it. He instead slid out the small, wooden chest from beneath the bed, its gold edges looking neglected from never being polished. Using the key, he opened it and drew out his mother's amethyst, and shoved it into his oversized pocket. Then, taking a deep breath, he reach out to hold the stranger's large and warm hand.
           They walked out the door, and towards the group of children waiting near the village, to be led to the docks, where they would escape. The child wondered about the adults for a short moment, before they were out into the village centre.
            "Hurry, children. We have not much time left. I've bedrooms on the boat for you; you may sleep there. We'll be safe by morning. Hurry, now." The stranger gently pushed them towards the boat, resting at the pier, waiting for its master to drive it away into the blue horizon.
             The child, before he boarded the boat, looked back one last time, and for a moment remembered all the years he spent there, the memories flooding back like a tsunami tide. Then he climbed onboard, on the ship, and into a new life.