Wrinkle in Time

rubbed into her body. She sighed and stretched and discovered that she could stretch. She could move again, she was no longer paralysed, and her body was bathed in waves of warmth. Her father had not saved her; the beasts had.

‘So you are awake, little one?’ The words came gently to her ears. ‘What a funny little tadpole you are! Is the pain gone now?’

‘All gone.’

‘Are you warm and alive again?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She struggled to sit up.

‘No, lie still, small one.You must not exert yourself as yet. We will have a fur garment for you in a moment, and then we will feed you. You must not even try to feed yourself. You must be as an infant again. The Black Thing does not relinquish its victims willingly.’

‘Where are father and Calvin? Have they gone back for Charles Wallace?’

‘They are eating and resting,’ the beast said, ‘and we are trying to learn about each other and see what is best to help you. We feel now that you are not dangerous, and that we will be allowed to help you.’

‘Why is it so dark in here?’ Meg asked. She tried to look round, but all she could see was shadows. Nevertheless there was a sense of openness, a feel of a gentle breeze moving lightly about, that kept the darkness from being oppressive.

Perplexity came to her from the beast. ‘What is this dark? What is this light? We do not understand. Your father and the boy, Calvin, have asked this, too. They say that it is night now on our planet, and that they cannot see.They have told us that our atmosphere is what they call opaque, so that the stars are not visible, and then they were surprised that we know stars, that we know their music and the movements of their dance far better than beings like you who spend hours studying them through what you call telescopes. We do not understand what this means, to see.’

‘Well, it’s what things look like,’ Meg said helplessly.

‘We do not know what things look like, as you say,’ the beast said. ‘We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing, this seeing.’

‘Oh, no!’ Meg cried.’It’s — it’s the most wonderful thing in the world!’

‘What a very strange world yours must be!’ the beast said, ‘that such a peculiar-seeming thing should be of such importance. Try to tell me, what is this thing called light that you are able to do so little without?’

‘Well, we can’t see without it,’ Meg said, realizing that she was completely unable to explain vision and light and dark. How can you explain sight on a world where no one has ever seen and where there is no need of eyes? ‘Well, on this planet,’ she fumbled, ‘you have a sun, don’t you?’

‘A most wonderful sun, from which comes our warmth, and the rays which give us our flowers, our food, our music, and all the things which make life and growth.’

‘Well,’ Meg said, ‘when we are turned towards the sun — our Earth, our planet, I mean, towards our sun — we receive its light. And when we’re turned away from it, it is night. And if we want to see we have to use artificial lights.’

‘Artificial lights,’ the beast sighed. ‘How very complicated life on your planet must be. Later on you must try to explain some more to me.’

‘All right,’ Meg promised, and yet she knew that to try to explain anything that could be seen with the eyes would be impossible, because the beasts in some way saw, knew, understood, far more completely than she, or her parents, or Calvin, or even Charles Wallace.

‘Charles Wallace!’ she cried. ‘What are they doing about Charles Wallace? We don’t know what IT is doing to him or making him do. Please, oh, please, help us!’

‘Yes, yes, little one, of course we will help you. A meeting is in session at this moment to study what is best to do. We have never before been able to talk to anyone who has managed to escape from a dark planet, so although your father is blaming himself for everything that has happened, we feel that he must be quite an extraordinary person to get out of Camazotz with you at all. But the little boy, and I understand that he is a very special, a very important little boy — ah, my child, you must accept that this will not be easy. To go back through the Black Thing, back to Camazotz — I don’t know. I don’t know.’

‘But father left him!’ Meg said. ‘He’s got to bring him back! He can’t just abandon Charles Wallace!’

The beast’s communication suddenly became crisp. ‘Nobody said anything about abandoning anybody. That is not our way. But we know that just because we want something does not mean that we will get what we want, and we still do not know what to do. And we cannot allow you, in your present state, to do anything that would jeopardize us all. I can see that you wish your father to go rushing back to Camazotz, and you could probably make him do this, and then where would we be? No. No. You must wait until you are more calm. Now, my darling, here is a robe for you to keep warm and comfortable.’ Meg felt herself being lifted again, and a soft, light garment was slipped about her. ‘Don’t worry about your little brother.’ The tentacles’ musical words were soft against her. ‘We would never leave him behind the shadow. But for now you must relax, you must be happy, you must get well.’

The gentle words, the feeling that this beast would be able to love her no matter what she said or did, lapped Meg in warmth and peace.

‘It is so long since my own small ones were grown and gone,’ the beast said. ‘You are so tiny and vulnerable. Now I will feed you. You must eat slowly and quietly. I know that you are half starved, that you have been without food far too long, but you must not rush things or you will not get well.’

Something completely and indescribably delicious was put to Meg’s lips, and she swallowed gratefully. With each swallow she felt strength returning to her body, and she realized that she had had nothing to eat since the horrible fake turkey dinner on Camazotz which she had barely tasted. How long ago was her mother’s stew? Time no longer had any meaning.

‘How long does night last here?’ she murmured sleepily. ‘It will be day again, won’t it?’

‘Hush,’ the beast said. ‘Eat, small one. During the coolness, which is now, we sleep. And, when you waken, there will be warmth again and many things to do. You must eat now, and sleep, and I will stay with you.’

‘What should I call you, please?’ Meg asked.

‘Well, now. First, try not to say any words for just a moment. Think within your own mind. Think of all the things you call people, different kinds of people.’

While Meg thought, the beast murmured to her gently. ‘No, mother is a special, a one-name; and a father you have here. Not just friend, nor teacher, nor brother, nor sister. What is acquaintance? What a funny, hard word. Aunt. Maybe. Yes, perhaps that will do. And you think of such odd words about me. Thing, and monster!. Monster, what a horrid sort of word. I really do not think I am a monster. Beast. That will do. Aunt Beast.’

‘Aunt Beast,’ Meg murmured sleepily, and laughed.

‘Have I said something funny?’Aunt Beast asked in surprise. ‘Isn’t Aunt Beast all right?’

‘Aunt Beast is lovely,’ Meg said. ‘Please sing to me, Aunt Beast.’

If it was impossible to describe sight to Aunt Beast, it would be even more impossible to describe the singing of Aunt Beast to a human being. It was music even more beautiful than the singing of the creatures on Uriel. It was a music more tangible than form or sight. It supported Meg more firmly than the arms of Aunt Beast. It seemed to travel with her and to sweep her aloft in the power of song so that she was moving in glory among the stars, and for a moment she, too, felt that the words Darkness and Light had no meaning, and only this melody was real.

Meg did not know when she fell asleep within the body of the music. When she awakened Aunt Beast was asleep, too, the softness of her furry, faceless head drooping. Night had gone and a dull grey light filled the room. But she realized now that here on this planet there was no need for colour, that the greys and browns merging into each other were not what the beasts knew, and that what she, herself, saw was only the smallest fraction of what the planet was really like. It was she who was limited by her senses, not the blind beasts, for they must have senses of which she could not even dream.

She stirred slightly, and Aunt Beast bent over her immediately. ‘What a lovely sleep, my darling. Do you feel all right?’