“It wasn’t brave because he wasn’t scared: it was the only thing he could do. But going back again to get his glasses, when he knew the wasps were there, when he was really scared. That was brave.” She took her first step down the dark corridor. She could smell dust and damp and mustiness. The cat padded along beside her. “And why was that?” asked the cat, although it sounded barely interested. “Because,” she said, “when you’re scared but you still do it anyway, that’s brave.”
