Theodore

An Odd Trip Through The Woods (Ch.5)

"Oh- oh oh."

The boy states with an odd inflection. The forest is damp this evening, damp and dreary, just as he enjoys when going for an evening shamble. Decaying leaf litter covers the ground on days like these, making him feel quite at home in this marshy wilderness. However, on this day, he was unable to see the wire trap hidden beneath the soggy, weighted leaves and misstepped. In the blink of an eye, the wire tightened around his ankle and yanked him off his feet with a thud before lifting him over the thick branch of a dying tree.
"Oh, why, what the predicament," he states, hanging upside-down by his leg, slowly spinning in the air. Upon holding his weight, the wire begins to tear into his skin, causing his foot to go numb with blood loss and his ankle to bleed. "Well, it seems that- I think- I have become stuck." He stammers, his voice oddly robotic. Then, upon feeling the blood spilling down his leg, he forces his head up to see the wound. "Oh, oh, there's a liquid, quite the gooey gross liquid, spilling down my leg." He strains and curls his body upward and grabs his leg with one hand, reaching up and running his finger through the bloody wound with the other. He brings his blood-covered finger to his lips and drags the finger across his mouth, and then licks his lips making several smacking sounds before letting go of his leg and allowing his body to dangle again. "It's quite gooey, yes." He concludes, his eyes oddly wide and scanning his surroundings.
"Hmmm," he mutters to himself before smacking his lips again, "Hmm, yes, it's sweet. Oh, sweet like yummy bee nectar, don't you think?" He declares to himself in his silent surroundings. As the blood rushes to his head, he starts to develop a headache, and he squeezes his eyes shut, blinking a few times tightly. "My head," he hushes, "mm, my head feels quite fuzzy; yes." Why does the young man state these things in the empty, eerie forest he doesn't know, but how he states his sentences is odd in inflection, as if worried but also peacefully talking to another individual nearby, unseen by the rest of the world. He hums softly, his eyes falling shut, and he slowly loses consciousness.

A few minutes later, a young hunter emerges from the underbrush, a few rabbits slung over his shoulder. He is shocked by the young man caught in his trap and quickly cuts him down; however, his hands slip and cause the boy to fall to the forest floor with a thud. "Oooh." the boy groans in a high-pitched voice, being woken up by the fall. "Holy shit, I'm so fucking sorry," the man states. He dashes over and begins to assess the linear wound on the other man's ankle. It appears to have cut almost to the bone. "Oh my god." He whispers to himself. He panics slightly and places his game on the damp ground. He takes off his flannel shirt and tears off the sleeve with his teeth, and proceeds to wrap the boy's ankle tightly. "Oh well, that feels quite funny." The semi-conscious man mutters to himself, his eyes glossed over and eyelids fluttering. "I'm so sorry, ah, I'm Timothy, and ah, I'll get you to my cabin, alright?" Timothy frantically states. "Oh, a little woody house? Oh, how delightful. I bet there will be spiders in that house, do you think?" He woozily says under his breath. Timothy gives him an odd glance due to the man's wording but chalks it up to the blood rush and daze. He then ties his hunt to his belt and slings the odd man over his shoulders. A breathy moan comes from the boy as he's lifted, but Timothy ignores it as he lifts him with a grunt before starting the trek home.
"My," The boy states, "My, my."
"Huh?" Timothy grunts in response, throwing a brief look at the man across his shoulders. "Oh, well, it seems I've gone for a ride." "Uh-huh." "A ride on my very own pony, how wonderful." The dazed boy hums to himself in an off-putting tone. Timothy furrows his brow and whispers to himself, "What a weird-ass," accidentally loud enough for the young man to hear. "Oh well, that's made me rather cross." The boy states, his face taking an eerily long while to contort into an angered frown, "What a very rude pony you are." Timothy questions whether this is really due to the blood rush at this point, becoming increasingly unnerved and starting to ponder as to if he should really allow this creepy boy into his home or not. "Okay, buddy, look, let's get you back to the cabin, and I'll patch you up." "No, nonsense, Mister Pony, you will put me down now." The boy starts to struggle, his arms and legs wriggling in odd flinches instead of genuinely fighting Timothy off; nonetheless, Timothy gives in and obliges. "How on earth do you think you'll walk?" He scoffs. "Oh, Mister Pony-" "My name is Timothy." Timothy interrupts, but the boy continues, not even noticing he had spoken. "I walk alllllll the time," the boy drawls, "just look." And with that, the boy begins to hobble like an ape, limping due to his back foot being numb, inflamed, and useless. He walks with his knuckles curled, like a gorilla, and his movements cause squelches underneath his hands and feet with every step.
Timothy stares at him as the boy circles him with his limping ape-like shamble, but against his better judgment, he lets his morals take over and continues to lead him to the cabin. "Uh... Alright," he starts, pointing north and beginning to trek again, "house is this way." "Oh, joy." The boy replies with a hum tilting his head side to side while also jerking it around to look about the area. Timothy gives the odd man a glance here and there until suddenly the boy notices the wild game on the man's belt and chirps, "Mm! Fuzzy little hoppy bunnies, mm." "Ah, yep. Fuzzy bunnies." Timothy replies. "Oh, please, Mister Pony," the boy begs, "might I have a fuzzy bunny for my own?" Timothy glances down at his rabbits before sighing. After all, he'd have to feed the ape-like stranger eventually. "Sure, man, once we get home." "Oh!" Theodore grins excitedly, "Oh joy, oh joy, oh joy!" he chants, doing an oddly excited jump around Timothy, seemingly prancing, before looking up at the normal man with gentle, kind eyes, "Thank you oh-so-very much, Mister Pony." "My name..." Timothy groans. "Is Timothy." The boy stays silent, to which Timothy rolls his eyes. "So, what's yours?" "Hm?" the young man queries in an off-key singsong voice. "Your name?" Timothy elaborates. "Oh yes, yes! Aiti always taught me manners; oh, I'm such a naughty boy. I deserve no fluffy bunny..." He pouts, his crawl becoming somber, and he hunches his shoulders in shame. "Ah, no, it's fine, really; just tell me and, er, you'll have earned it," Timothy reassures. The boy's demeanor immediately brightens, "Oh! Oh, hello, my name is Theodore!" He replies politely with a nod, "I have earned a fluffy bunny now?" Theodore pleads, looking up at the man with wide, almost sweet eyes and a slight grin. Timothy realizes the boy is missing a tooth and begins to question his age but pushes it from his mind. "Yes, yes, you've earned it." "Yay!" Theodore caws, and he prances ahead of Timothy.
In the distance, just past the trees in a clearing by a lake, lies Timothy's cabin. Theodore's face seems to shine with joy when he starts it, and he does a shambling run, his injured leg dragging behind him as he nears the door. Timothy follows up behind him and unlocks the door with a key from his pocket before opening the door to let the strange man. Theodore frolics inside, looking throughout the rather homey cabin. Before him is a large open layout; a large red rug with golden decals around its perimeter, and upon it lay two large, red, cozy plush chairs and a dark brown leather sofa between them, all facing an elaborate, tall fireplace. Across the room is a small, modern kitchen, and beyond it is a ladder leading up to a loft, presumably a bedroom.
The hunched, eerie boy stares in awe around the log cabin, trunks of trees used as gorgeous faux walls. "My, wow!" Theodore shouts, his voice echoing softly within the large, open house. "So pretty, quite, quite!" He cheers. Timothy can't help but smile softly, but his eyes furrow in concern. Theodore then crawls over to him and squats before Timothy, his arms out and hands grabbing, "Might, yes, might I," Theodore stutters, "Oh might I have the fluffiest bunny, now please?" He begs. Timothy lets out yet another irritated sigh, putting a hand to his forehead, "Yeah, sure..." Timothy trails off. He spots Theodore's wounded foot, his feet now coated in mud and leaf litter. His injured foot not only bleeds at the ankle but now looks to lay at a worrying angle, and his ankle now swollen, blood still dripping down from the line where the wire cut into him. "Only if you sit still and let me set your ankle, it looks like your, er, walking, has broken your... Ankle..." Timothy finishes with a waver to his voice. He is somewhat concerned; Theodore doesn't look to be in any sort of pain, not even acknowledging his floppy, broken angle.
"Oh, yes, please!" Theodore pleads with excitement. "Alright... Let's set you on the kitchen counter. Er, if you sit still, you can have a rabbit, I guess?" Timothy finishes with a question. Theodore lets out a triumphant coo and gallops on all fours, or, well, threes, two a countertop. He leaps up, landing on the counter gracefully like a cat. The mighty leap only confused Timothy even more. 'The man must be really fucking ill.' He thought to himself. However, he walked over towards the kitchen and reached into a bottom cabinet, taking out a first aid kit. He then laid his game on the island in the kitchen's center before making his way over to Theodore, who was sitting down and swinging his legs childishly off the edge, his broken foot flopping around at loose, odd angles. "Alright..." Timothy muttered, lifting up Theodore's injured leg carefully and placing it on the countertop.
"Wait!" Theodore said frantically, spooking Timothy and causing him to worry if he had harmed him. "What about my fluffy bunny, Mister Pony?" Theodore finished. Timothy let out an annoyed, defeated groan and trekked back over to the island, picking up a random dead rabbit by the wire around its hindlegs and placing it in Theodore's lap before getting to work. Theodore gasped with excitement, bringing his hands to his cheeks, too focused on the bunny to notice Timothy setting his ankle and wrapping it tightly for support. "Oh, what a beautiful boy!" Theodore coos, lifting up the bunny and snuggling its face. However, he squeezes it so tightly around the head that suddenly, there's a cracking noise. Timothy stares at Theodore for a moment, slightly horrified, and for a good reason. Theodore lifts the bunny in front of him by its underarms, its skull now deformed and blood leaking from its left eye and ears. "Why, aren't you just a dashing gentleman." The deranged boy exclaims, "You're bound to charm all the little ladies of the ball." He finishes. At this point, Timothy is fearful but, for some odd reason, doesn't feel threatened. He does have a concealed gun on his waist, after all, so if need be, he knew he would be protected.
Theodore continued to play with the rabbit in his hands. "Why, what is your name? Um.. umm..." Theodore mutters, quite puzzled, holding the rabbit eye to eye. Eventually, a lightbulb goes off in his head, "Ah! Yes, Timothy, you say!" Timothy gives Theodore a confused glance while continuing to set, stitch, and wrap the boy's wounds. "Why Timothy," Theodore cheers, "it seems you and I have become the oh-so bestest of playmates!" He hugs the rabbit and sways side to side before putting an eat-in his mouth and suckling on it peacefully. "Okay..." Timothy trails off, finishing his work. "So, anywhere I can take you back to?" "Mm, oh yes, sire," Theodore states, his words partially muffled by the hare's ear between his lips. "Yes, yes, I can walk back to the brush." "The brush?" "Why yes, the brush," Theodore smiles, "why, I live in a large fancy place much like your own." He looks around Timothy's cabin. "Rocks and stalactites galore." He finishes. Timothy frowns. A cave? He can't stay there; his leg could just get worse... Timothy fights himself internally. Finally, he decides Theodore can stay with him unless he becomes dangerous, then he'll be taken to an infirmary on his next trip to town.
Theodore continues to look around and admire the home, his eyes half-lidded and weary as he gently strokes his bunny friend. He hums a sleepy tune softly and gently rocks side to side. "Tired?" Timothy asks. "Oh, no, don't let me be a bother," Theodore says, looking to the ground and tilting his head side to side. "Ah, well, let's get yea to the couch," Timothy suggests. Theodore thinks about it for a second and then nods, to which Timothy helps him off the counter and allows Theodore to use him as a crutch as they walk to the sofa; Theodore still suckling on the rabbit's ear. Timothy lays Theodore on the couch, and the odd boy curls up, cradling his dead bunny. Timothy debates whether or not to take the rabbit away but decides against it and tells himself he'll just wipe down the cushions later. He watches as Theodore's eyes drift shut, and his breathing starts to nullify, all the while still making suckling noises. Timothy lets a half-smile tug at his lips, watching the poor, almost innocent-looking boy, and then walks back to the kitchen to start preparing his game.

A few hours later, Timothy hears a pained moan, and some muffled curses come from the other room. He walks through the open layout and around the corner to see Theodore rousing from his slumber. "Fuck," the man groans in a much lower voice than before; where he once sounded like a young child or even a little girl in some ways, he now sounds like a young man, possibly in his teens. "You good in there?" Timothy asks. He wears a striped apron with some blood and hair sticking to it as he wipes his hands down with a hand towel. Theodore sits up with lightning speed out of shock, causing the rabbit to fall to the carpet before wincing and reaching for his foot. His breathing starts to pick up, and he looks around the room in a panic. "Ah, you good there, bud?" Timothy asks again, only to be answered with a snarl, "Who the fuck are you?" "Jesus Christ," Timothy exclaims, lifting his hands up and backing up slightly, "You got stuck in my hair trap, man, You literally walked back to my cabin with me, and your stubborn ass monkey-walk caused you to fucking break your ankle." Theodore's eyes look him up and down with fear before looking around the room, muttering to himself. "Uh..." Timothy trails off, lowering his hands and wiping them off once more. "So, uh, this is different." He mutters in pure confusion. "Shut up," Theodore snaps, immediately making eye contact and glowering at the man. He averts his eyes and looks about the floor before proceeding. "What's your name?" "Timothy," Timothy replies, the tension in his shoulders relaxing upon seeing Theodore start to calm down. "And how's your foot doing?" He queries, to which Theodore replied, "Fucking hurt's like a bitch's tit." Timothy scoffed, unable to conceal his amusement. Theodore looks up at the kind man then begins to mutter again before attempting and struggling to get up. Timothy rushes to Theodore's side, causing the boy to flinch away, and sits him down. "Let's not walk just yet, man." He says gently, frowning slightly at Theodore's defensive response to his sudden movements. "I'll go get some painkillers." He ends. Timothy then kneels down and picks up the now crushed-up rabbit, thinking through how he may be able to salvage some of the meat still. "You want some food?" He asks Theodore, gesturing to the rabbit with a soft smile. Theodore remains silent, and Timothy shrugs, "Your call, man." He then turns and starts to walk back towards the kitchen. "Uh, yeah... Thanks... Sorry." Theodore stutters as the man leaves. Timothy smiles to himself half-heartedly. He was only more frightened of the boy in his living room now, but he knew he needed help. While nervous and obviously not right in the head, Theodore still seemed like he meant no real harm. Perhaps it'd be alright, Timothy believed; maybe the odd company he caught wouldn't be so bad.