A man takes under his wing a child who has run away from her mother's funeral. He takes her fear of being found seriously. It turns out there is much more to the story. A child runs away from the funeral of her mother. A father she does not know. A lonely man brings her food and they become friends. She personifies an inheritance more fatal than the incriminating information her late mother hid somewhere. A foreign secret service is on her trail. Near a hole in the iron fencing lay the scooter, not quite covered with barren leaves. The man sat down on a mossy side branch, as thick as his leg, which came horizontally from a main trunk. ‘I have the food and drink with me,’ he whispered. ‘There’s no one else around.’ To his surprise, the child did not emerge from the hole in the fence, but tobogganed down a sloping trunk from the rhododendron’s crown. It said nothing, grabbed the plastic bag and began eating and drinking greedily. From the fine hands and gestures, the man made out that it was more likely to be a girl after all; boys moved differently, he thought. ‘Did you run away?’ The child looked at him suspiciously, snatched the bag of food and drink to itself and practically ran up the sloping log. The man watched it in amazement and admiration. ‘Quick reflexes,’ he muttered. ‘And tree climbing she’s good at.’