Tromo ran behind Ethall for a little while, who made it as hard as possible for him to catch her by sprinting as fast as she could and running in and out of trees at random.

Her long dark hair flew out behind her and if Tromo lagged behind he would be able to catch a wisp of it disappearing behind a tree to aid him in his pursuit.

If he missed this as well, somehow Ethall would sense it, or notice the absence of the sound of his footsteps, and invariably let out an ecstatic shriek of excitement to alert him to her latest trajectory.

Eventually though she must have tired of this game, because Tromo followed the sound of her latest giggle to find her standing quite still with a thoughtful look on her face.

“I’m tired of tig.” This was a rare occurrence. “What game shall we play instead?” She turned to Tromo. “Oh! I forgot!” she exclaimed half-playfully, half-cruelly, “You can’t talk, can you?”

“I can talk!” said Tromo indignantly. His voice was stubborn and sweet at the same time, just as a little boy’s should be.

Ethall giggled again. “Oh, so you can! Have you been playing a big trick on your parents? It is a very good one. I should never imagine how you’ve kept it up so long!”

“They’re not my parents,” Tromo corrected her.

“Oh, I forgot that too. Why are you with them again?”

“…They’re taking me to find my family. Or a family…” he added quietly.

“Well, why don’t you speak to them, whoever they are?”

Tromo generally waited a long time before he said anything, so accustomed was he to his habit of silence. When he did speak, he stumbled over his words slightly, his mouth not used to forming them. “I think you got to learn to think properly before you can speak properly.”

“That’s silly,” Ethall objected immediately. “Whoever thought of thinking without words?”

Tromo’s brow furrowed. “What d’you mean?

“I mean, when you think, you can’t think without speaking inside your head, can you? Thinking is just saying things to yourself.”

“Well, maybe...” Tromo said. “But I think it’s much more dangerouser to say things out loud than to say things to yourself.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause when you say things out loud people can hear what you’re saying.” Obviously.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Tromo thought for an extra long time before answering this question. “You might hurt someone with what you say.”

For once Ethall’s reply was not instantaneous. “That’s true,” she said eventually. “But you might help someone with what you say. You might say something beautiful.”

She had a point. But Tromo was unmoving. “It’s not just that...”

“What is it, then?” said Ethall.

“Grown-ups talk too much. They try and catch stuff in words.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. I seen it all the time. And then they just get stuck up in a lot of words. Too much talking. They mix up everything with everything what they say about...everything.” He concluded, slightly hesitantly, “I mean, they mix up stuff with what they have to say about…stuff.”

“That depends on the way you speak,” said Ethall. “Anyway, isn’t it just as easy to do that when you’re speaking in your head as when you’re speaking out loud?”

Ethall’s questions were annoying Tromo. He wanted to go back to keeping silent. But from the way she looked at him eventually he was forced to respond.

“How many different ways are there to speak, then?” he asked her.

“Two, of course,” said Ethall authoritatively. “Everybody knows that. Don’t your pare– I mean, don’t Zanthē and Antheus teach you anything?”

“Anthē and Zantheus,” Tromo corrected her again. “I don’t think they know more than one way. They’re always arguing. Go on then, what are they?”

“It’s simple. One, you can speak for yourself. Two, you can speak for other people.”

“Well, speak for yourself, but I don’t like speaking for other people.”

“No, not like speaking on their behalf. Speaking for the sake of other people, I mean.”

Tromo pondered this dichotomy at length.

“But how can you speak for other people when you’re speaking to yourself, like when you’re thinking?”

Ethall had not considered this. Tromo had located a gap in her doctrine. “I’m not sure....” she said. “I’ll have to ask Mum.”

“I don’t think you can. And if you can’t even think for other people, how can you talk for other people? Talking’s a waste of time. It’s better to keep quiet, out and in.”

“Maybe you’re right... So, are you going to carry on with your trick when we go back to the grown-ups?”

“It’s not a trick. Yes.”

“Alright. I won’t give you away. It can be our secret. I suppose there’s only one thing left to say anyway.”

“What?” asked Tromo.

“Tig!” said Ethall, and they were away.