The young man treaded softly through the halls of his father's house, careful to avoid the floorboards that creaked. His father did not rise this early. And so the house belonged to Tom.

He hopped on up the staircase, skipping the fifth step, and keeping his eyes on the great old grandfather clock on the top landing. When he reached the thick rugs of the top floor, he grabbed an antique chair from the wall and walked with it to the center of the hall beyond. Placing it carefully on the rug, he climbed atop and reached for the cord that dangled from the ceiling.

Letting down the trap door, he grabbed the end of the ladder above and pulled it free. Taking the utmost care, he returned the chair and then climbed up into the attic.

As soon as he had reached his haven, the simple shadows of the house jumped to life. A few characters sat amongst the trunks and chests of old keepsakes, and as Tom joined them, they each gave him a greeting in their own way.

A map was thrown out on an old coffee table, and the characters were in the midst of a very intense meeting. A plan was to be made. Currently, as Tom could see, there were still a million possibilities. He had not even set pen to paper yet.

"I think this portion here," one character said, stabbing the center of the old parchment, "Is where they are."

"But what is that place?" asked Tom in a thoughtful voice.

The character gave him a dramatic look. "It's jungle," he said. "It's dense, uncharted territory. Secret valleys, hidden caves, and...traps. This place is full of traps. Land that gives way when you walk on, nets that spring from trees, darts that fire from cave walls...it's too dangerous."

Another character who had been sitting back in the shadows stepped forward. The slivers of light that came through the shuttered window landed upon the man's face. A tremendous scar could be seen across his cheek. His eyes were hawk-like and gray.

"I'll go," he said.

Everyone in the room went silent, and they looked to this one man in admiration. And then another stood up--an eager young man with an agile form and shifty eyes.

"I'm with you," he announced.

Tom watched the scene with growing excitement. Then he began to write furiously in his notebook.

The two adventurers made an odd team--Old Sulken with his frightening secrets from the dark times, and Tuck Millow with his young heroics and beaming smile. And yet here they were: partners.

Tuck hopped down from the plane with a calculating gaze. The jungle was thick. But he had a machete that he could swing for hours without growing tired.

Old Sulken followed, his gaze being one of serious intent. He was ready to master this jungle. He would track those two kids day and night, and when he found them, he would carry both of them on his back for as long as it took to find safety, and he would never once complain.

Tuck and Old Sulken watched the plane take off. Then they turned their eyes to the jungle. Let the trek begin.

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