• It had been locked in the Dark. Always in the Dark. Full of hateful ideas. Nasty, dirty, filthy, loathsome ideas. It knew there were other Places. Other Rooms. It always went into the Baby's room. It had to check on the Baby. It's Baby.

    It's Baby was alone, too. Alone in the Snow, and the White, and the Cold. It didn't know why.

    One day, the Thing was visited. The Door was opened. The Thing could see itself. The Thing was pale, and the Light stung its eyes, and Whoever was there ran from the Thing. It went to the Baby then.

    The Baby didn't run from It. Where would the Baby go if the Baby chose to run anyway? All around the Room was Snow and Cold and Whiteness. The Baby wouldn't find the Door. It stayed with the Baby sometimes. Sometimes It would stay longer, sometimes not, but always It kept the Baby near when It was there.

    Suddenly, the Thing's World shifted. Cracks appeared, and the Rooms buckled and melded and split apart. The Thing went to the Baby. It felt Someone enter, reshaping the Rooms. It wouldn't take any chances, not with the Baby. It's Baby.

    The Someone came into the Baby's Room, took the Baby from the Thing. The Thing could only watch as the Baby was sealed away from It. It stayed as near as it could, but now... The Baby was alone.

    The Thing was alone.