By the time the renovations were just about finished, I’d been spending almost all my time in the basement for a period of about three months. In that time, the library guardian had gotten so… well, fat… that it couldn’t even lift itself up anymore. I watched it try to drag itself into its corner one night, but it couldn’t budge an inch. So it sat on the floor, somehow managing to convey its distress to me even though it lacked the eyes with which to do it. I stayed by its side, stroking its fur and singing quietly until its despair subsided. During our time together, I’d learned that it rather liked being sung to.
I could sense that something was different that night. Something was going to happen – only I had no idea what.
When my mom came down to check on me, I told her my suspicions. She agreed to stay the night with me and help me take care of our guardian, our protector, our friend. It seemed to enjoy our company, and it tried to snuggle closer to us as I draped a blanket around it, keeping it warm.
It was about midnight when it began to happen.