*End of re-edited version, some of the story may not make sense.
Theodore Redferne quickened his pace to keep up with the boy ahead of them, slightly out of breath as he pealed his way over the brambles and brush of the outskirts of their small town. He tried not to let himself long to complain, knowing he had no right to ask the other to slow down.
"Keep up! Can't you?" The boy prodded, and Teddy pushed his legs ever faster attempting to quell the fierce cramp forming in his stomach.
"Sorry." Teddy apologized sheepishly. The other boy, Damien, scoffed and rolled his eyes. As they reached the final edge of a green clearing surrounded by tall trees stretching like giants into the clouds. Their leaves were red and orange with regard to the season, drifting lazily down and piling around the bushes.
"Go on," Damien gestured to the berry bushes that marked the perimeter of the opening. "On with it. Let's get this over with.. I don't want to be stuck around you longer than I have to on my day off."
"Of course not." Teddy mumbled, quickening his pace to fill his basket with the ripe glossy cranberries off the bushes. Rather than helping to make the time go by, Damien elected to continue his lament from the outskirts of the clearing.
"I don't see why you couldn't have done this alone. When are you going to grow up, huh? How can you expect anyone to tolerate you when you can't even do a simple task by yourself?" He insisted.
"I'm sure I can't." Teddy agreed absentmindedly. Damien was certainly not his favorite person, and not at the top of he list of people he'd attempt to spend his morning with. Picking berries was best done a solitary task, especially when a partner refused to help anyway. Besides, the mindless job he was given to keep him out of the house, didn't need to be complicated with an escort.
No, Teddy could't wait to put himself as far from the older boy as possible, but nobody cared what he wanted. It was Damien's fault he was tied to Teddy, though Damien would never admit that. If the stupid boy hadn't been caught drinking with his mates behind the mill, then he could have been home doing as he chose and not out with the town's outcast. Teddy could never say that to the angered Damien, because if he did it'd only serve to annoy the boy worse, and that was a fate like death.
Damien was something of a bully, perhaps more of brooding annoyance that was wrought with annoyance in return. To Damien, certainly Teddy was the problem, but Teddy tried to avoid him as much as possible. Being the adopted son of the local priest had many drawbacks, such as the perception that Teddy could never break the rules, but it had the benefit that Damien would never actually touch him for fear of being damned to hell.
Teddy wished that wasn't the only thing stopping the boy from hurting him at all times, but he'd learned a long time ago not to ask for any more than the good he was allocated. He turned his attention back to his mission, not just to get away from Damien, but to get back home before it was dark.
The cranberries were in full blossom covering the bushes that decorated the perimeter of the forest. The leaves drifted down in the October wind and caused Teddy to wrap his burgundy sweater a little closer around his shoulder. Teddy wished Damien would just go off with his friends like he wanted to; Teddy preferred to be alone anyway. Fr. Charles never trusted Teddy to be by himself, still he spent most of his time that way since he was such an outcast. Though, should the fall evening give out to a winter night and the son go down, Teddy'd be glad to have the boy.
Damien would surely leave him to die if such a thing happened, but still Teddy figured that'd be better than being alone. Teddy spent most of his time alone. It wasn't that Teddy was afraid of the dark, though maybe deep down he was, but rather that there was this dark feeling of despair, of loneliness, of longing, that usually overcame him in the night.
"I've got things to do, you know? You think Margaret is waiting around for just anyone?" Damien continued.
"Of course not."
"You're damn right. And instead of being with my best girl, I'm stuck with some whiny little kid who needs me to do everything for him." Damien crossed his arms.
"That sounds awful."
"I was talking about you." Damien narrowed his eyes.
"I'm aware."
"I mean maybe if you could be of use for on-" Damien began, but Teddy in a huff of bravery cut him off unable to listen to his lamentations for any longer.
"Why don't you just go off to Margaret and I'll tell Fr. Charles that you stayed with me the whole morning, then got called off by your father after walking me home?"
"I... You won't tell Fr. Charles I left?" Damien questioned. His face told him what Teddy already knew he was thinking. He was thinking he couldn't believe the son of a priest was proclaiming rebellion.
"Not a word. I promise." Teddy swore, and his word was like a lock of steel.
"You're right not a word, cause if you do, I'll make sure it's the last word you ever say." Damien finished his threat, no intention of making good upon it, then ran off back into the village.
"Go on and do it then." Teddy mumbled. It wasn't like he had very much to say regardless, so he wasn't sure if he ought to even care. Still, Teddy was relieved to have the boy gone. It was a kind of peace he only found alone. He longed often to be alone, without babysitters watching out for his seventeen year old interests, or Fr. Charles finding random jobs to force him to. It was nice to be alone. There was a sort of solace to loneliness. A sort of independence that came along with it. Teddy was only allowed brief moments of solitude under Fr. Charles doting care, so he cherished them as they came along. Being alone gave the boy a chance to appreciate what might be obscured by the focus on another. That peace wouldn't last, though, Teddy could somehow never carry it into the night even though that's when he was alone.
The small boy paused to take a break and wipe his brow against a tree. Years of access caution and moderation of food had left Teddy a sickly boy, and he fell out of breath very quickly. He already had more than enough cranberries, though he dreaded making his way back to his convent home where many more questions and figures would be waiting for him.
The air was slightly crisp in the Autumn day and the colored leaves drifted down around his ears. Teddy's cheeks were dusted with pink from the sharp chill that pierced the evening air. In the distance he could see the stone wall of Aldersdale; a town which contained his entire existence. True, Teddy had never been farther from the village than out to the clearing and back, but he was mostly content with his simple little life. It seemed to him that everything he needed was already there.
Smoke drifted lazily up from the chimneys between the gabled peaks of the village houses and added to the puffy white clouds. Teddy could tell what the buildings were even from his spot; the house with the heaviest smoke was the baker, hard at work at the bread for the day, and the one with the lightest amount of smoke was the Widow Alfreds, who had a pension for the colder weather. Of course, the building that stood out most of all was Teddy's home, characterized by the high steeple of the village Church. Our Lady, Star of the Sea was the tallest building in town and the home of Teddy's caretaker Fr. Charles.
Teddy's eyes wandered to the woods. Nobody from the village ever dared to breech the forest, not unless they were looking to be attacked by a wolf. It was a death sentence to anyone.
Above his head in the late hours of sunlight Teddy could see the faint outline of the moon. It was waxing, not waning, and spelled trouble for the village. Wolves in the area were particularly bad when the moon was full, part of what fueled the werewolf myths popular around town. Werewolves or not, Teddy knew that full moon meant danger, and danger meant Fr. Charles would tighten his leash even further.
Teddy wasn't one for superstition and he thought the attitude of the village was silly.
The moon was beautiful, despite its fearsome reputation, and the boy found himself staring at it longer and longer. It truly was a marvel. A great ball of stone floating round an even greater ball of stone, marking the time that passed.
There was a Catholic story Fr. Charles had explained to Teddy once. Something about how the Blessed Mother was like the moon, in that the moon makes no light of its own, but rather greater reflects the light of Christ or the sun and serves as a beacon hope in the darkness of night.
Almost unintentionally Teddy foot stepped forward towards the woods. Never in his life had he been within the confines of the wood, and it looked so peaceful.. so serene... so enticing. There was a small bit of fog that curled up between the straight parallel lines of the forest, and Teddy longed to run his hands through the mist. He wondered what it might be like to feel the mossy forest floor beneath his laced brown boots, to see the leaves crossing above his head. He wondered about the thrill he might feel to close the gap between him. As he thought, his other foot moved to meet the first.
He had time... Fr. Charles wouldn't be expecting him back for hours, so there wasn't a reason he couldn't go.. was there?
Teddy found himself at the edge of the clearing. Surely the villagers were just being foolish, just telling stories, stories not meant to believed. Teddy stepped into the brush, feeling a rush of courage. All his life he'd lived so close to the woods and never thought to go in. A few yards deeper he moved. On his right he could see a patch of wildflowers.. they were unlike any he'd ever seen.
Why shouldn't I go? Teddy asked himself. Why not? There was nothing scary about a few trees. Everybody thought he was such a coward, such a baby, why shouldn't he just run away? Leave the town behind for a while? Prove himself worthy.
The forest canopy blocked out the sun, giving the woods a timeless appearance, as if even the day and night cycle lost all power there. The mist passed by the ground, swirling playfully around in enchantment, tinges of purple and grey reflecting in the dim. A bird chirped from above him, and Teddy met it with a smile. Within the forest he saw flapping butteries and fluffy rabbits harmonizing in movement. Teddy dared himself deeper and ran his hand over the mossy trees as he passed. Perhaps he ought to have marked the trees as he passed, but Teddy's head was away from him. Good sense had lost its meaning.
Deeper, deeper, deep...
In the distance Teddy could make out a stream going over shiny silver rocks. His throat suddenly burst forth with thirst and he quickened his pace as he made his way over to it. When he reached it, the ground changed from moss to pebbles, and Teddy knelt down at the edge of the bank not even worrying if he dirtied his pants. His thirst increased tenfold and he laid his hands under the crystal clear water, cupping them together to bring the water to his lips. Instantly the ice cold water quenched his thirst like a fall of rain after months of drought.
Teddy had just finished his drink when a squirrel darted out from under a tree, scurrying over his leg. Teddy jumped back in fear clutching his wet hand to his heart. Off to his left he could see the squirrel scampering off into the forest, but the spell was broken, and Teddy's nerves were not calm. As he looked after the squirrel, he realized he didn't remember which way led out of the forest. Left, right, forwards, backwards, all seemed to look exactly the same. Rumor had it the woods ran on for miles in ever direction. That's why the town rarely had any visitors.
The topic of non-villagers was of distinct importance to Teddy, because it seemed he was the only non-local living in town. Teddy had spent his entire life in Aldersdale, and yet he was different, because he had been brought there as a baby. The Widow Alfreds told him he was delivered from the city by witches, and that he himself was cursed. Teddy didn't really believe her, but he let it comfort him when things couldn't seem to go right. When speaking to the others, it was as if they all had traces back to the founding of the town, a strange thing one might lie about, but Teddy grew to believe them when he realized he had never actually seen anyone come to the town in his whole life. Fr. Charles said the woods were just too treacherous to pass, and it simply wasn't worth it. A truth he was quickly becoming familiar with.
Suddenly every butterfly, rabbit, and tree, stretched above his head like a monster. The bushes became wolves, their berries glaring red eyes that scorched his soul. Teddy scolded himself for allowing himself into the forest. The white birch darkening to Black Death, plaguing his mind like tar.
"...where now?" Teddy mumbled to himself hopelessly. He was never one to believe the rumors about wolves, but in the fear of the moment it was all he could see. Bloody piles and missing children and forlorn hunters filled his thoughts. Would anyone even bother to look for him?
Teddy stood from the bank of the creek and brushed himself off. He was certain the village was to the West.. or was it the East? He knew they were located to the northeast of England, but nothing more. When you weren't allowed to leave your home, geography seemed pointless. The moss on the trees would tell him which way was north, but that only mattered if he knew which direction he was meant to be going, which of course he did not. With a huff of frustration Teddy began to make his way East instead of West with moderate regret. The scenery seemed familiar-- genus Betula, Birch trees. Fr. Charles had taught Teddy the Latin classifications for most things from childhood and though he wasn't fond of the lessons they brought him some semblance of comfort in the haze.
Above him the air had gone cold without the heat of the sun, and in Teddy's head that meant the sun was beginning to descend above him. Shivering, the boy realized he wasn't really dressed properly for the type of outing he'd gone on. His feet ached and his legs screamed at him to quit. He couldn't be sure how long he was gone, but he was sure Fr. Charles was worried sick and Damien would never outlive the punishment coming down the pike, further Teddy wasn't sure he could outlive let alone survive the boy's wrath.
Teddy dropped down on a particularly large rock to catch his breath. Across from him there was a rattling just out of sight and behind a bush. Once again, Teddy stood at the ready in shock. He wasn't sure what he thought it was, but he knew he didn't want to be caught off guard. The rustling grew louder and Teddy could sense that whatever it was was coming closer.
When he couldn't see what was true, Teddy hated that his mind would turn everything into something worse than it was. In Teddy's mind it was a bear, an elephant, and a wholly mammoth all rolled into one terrifying collection of human imagination.
From behind the swallow darkness jumped a gigantic grey and white wolf with flaring red eyes and sharp teeth. Its hackles were up as it growled angrily and the now terrified Teddy. It uttered a sharp bark and Teddy fell to the ground, using all his strength to tear himself away back into the rock. He shot himself back, pushing at the dirty ground with everything he had. The wolf stepped closer to him and Teddy flinched to the side. The growling was so loud it almost seemed as though it was coming from within his head, bounding around and reflecting louder.
Teddy could feel cool tears streaming down his cheeks as he waited against the rock. The growling silenced and Teddy felt the wolf sniff at his cheek, then there was nothing. Teddy remained frozen in place, but felt nothing. After a long moment of pause Teddy turned and saw he was once again alone against the rock. He could see no sign that the wolf had ever even been there, and he reached up to gingerly touch his cheek.
"You!" A voice called from behind him, and Teddy scrambled to attention. "You're kind isn't welcome here. Go back." The strange man demanded.
Teddy's brows furrowed, your kind, he wondered, what could that possibly mean? As far as he could see the owner of the voice was of 'his kind.' He'd heard tell of tribal wars between the nordic, anglo, Briton, and welsh tribes, and suddenly wondered if this might be some long holdover from medieval times. That didn't make sense he decided, nobody could hold a grudge that long.
Teddy titled his head at the man. For some reason Teddy's fear evaporated, though he was usually scared of everything. The owner of the voice was certainly a man... Perhaps a younger man closer to twenty, though at his towering stature it was hard to imagine calling him a teenage boy. His hair was a stark cordovan, a dark brown with grayish undertones... sort of like a gunmetal or bronze. His eyes, though far away, were a steely grey, and Teddy made himself look away to not seem strange. He could have sworn the man hadn't been there before, but there he was standing like a statue.
"I'm sorry."
"Go. Now. Or there will be punishments."
"I.. I-" Teddy mumbled, fear returning and forcing him to trip over his words.
"What?" The man's quick temper could be heard in his voice.
"I.. don't know my way back.." Teddy whispered.
"Straight that way." The man pointed, and Teddy raised his eyes then flinched away again. He nodded slightly. "Well, go on!" The man stepped forward again and Teddy bolted off in the direction he pointed, running as fast as his legs would carry him. "Don't come back!" The man shouted after him, "Unless you're looking for trouble."
Teddy wasn't sure who the man was, or why it mattered so much that he was in the woods, but he was certain he would not be going back into the woods ever again. Cowardly as it may be, he was terrified, and perhaps rightfully so.