The streets were dimly-lit and mercifully devoid of large groups of people at this hour. While he passed the occasional late-night worker and stumbling drunk, Malachi walked farther away from the church than he had expected without running into all that many.

He passed through narrow alleyways, hands extending out to touch the cool stone walls even as he had to draw his shoulders in to fit through the gap. Narrow streets, too, where he was grateful after the fact that he had not met any dark-clothed silhouettes waiting at the other ends.

It was quiet out, but far from silent. The mingled sounds of nocturnal creatures and bumbling insects rose above the distant rhythm of the sea; in the presbytery he could only hear the sound of his own breaths.

At home. It was his home. For a while, anyway.

The bridge came into view before he knew it. He had almost reached it when he heard another set of sounds add themselves to nature’s nighttime cacophony – voices? Two of them, from what he could make out.

Malachi stopped and waited. Listened for a few long moments. In spite of his wandering, he was aware of the dangers one might face while out at night… but the voices sounded young. How much trouble could it be?

He crossed to the next street, passing quickly through a connecting alley, and continued down the path until a shape came into view. Disfigured in the darkness, bottom-heavy – no, that was two shapes leaned together. Two small ones.

Stepping softly, Malachi approached with caution, and spoke up before he got close in case he spooked them.

“Hello,” he called out in the friendliest voice he could manage. “Are you alright?”