The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Punishment

     Teddy's legs screamed as the air rushed past his face and whizzed in his ears. He didn't have time to care. He didn't have time to adjust. He just had to run. Never in his life had he been so frightened, and he'd been freighted a million times. 

       He tore past tree after identical tree feeling as if the forest must stretch on infinitely in every direction and there was no way out. Just as he began wondering if the stranger he'd seen had given him false directions, he tore out of the woods and back into the clearing as abruptly as he'd entered. With the change in terrain he skidded to a stop practically falling over himself in a hush. He looked back to the woods with a glint in his eyes and picked himself, patting off his jeans. He leaned over hands on knees as he attempted to steady his breath. 

     Checking the moon once he was able to stand straight again, Teddy realized it probably hadn't been more than ten minutes, and was nowhere near night as he'd been confused to think it was in the woods. He shuttered. If he ever got lost in there again he would have no concept of time... not that he had any intention of going back. 

      Still, Fr. Charles would be worried he'd been out so late. The position of the moon told him it was nearly dark and if he was out at night there'd be hell to pay, not that Teddy wanted to be out later. Teddy didn't really want to go back to the church.. he wished he had somewhere to go, some friends to hang out with, but he didn't. He supposed the village was too small for there to be multiple outcasts who could be friends with each other. 

     Against his wishes, Teddy began walking, if slowly, back towards the walls of the village. Teddy dreaded walking back through the gates of the village, and seeing the many different people it held within. They were friendly, but Teddy thought the people in the village looked at him as if he was the strange one. He also often noticed a hint of a condescending tone when people spoke to him that he truly resented, though understood. 

      The village had high walls surrounding it like a fortress, rumored to keep out venomous shifters who'd wish the villagers harm. At least that was the creation myth. Fr. Charles always said the walls were meant to keep Henry VIII's army from converting the city, or seising Star of the Sea monastery for government lands. Regardless, Henry VIII never came... neither did Elizabeth I or any subsequent rulers hoping to inflict their anti-catholic rule and purify the county. The woods served as more of a wall than any stone structure ever could, and Teddy wondered if perhaps the village wasn't as important as they thought they were. He even wondered if the English crown was still aware of their existance. A person could run for miles, and be unable to find another village, or a trace of civilization. 

     Teddy pushed the thoughts from his head, resolving to attempt to thank Fr. Charles again as he often did. The boy wasn't sure of his origin, but he knew he came from outside of the city, and his life was certainly better than any he'd have if he'd been raised by the woods. Teddy walked as if his legs were made of stone into the village, allowing the afternoon wind to tickle his hair across his face. Once he passed under the gates he was met with a "whoosh" of activity that made him slightly nauseous.

     "Hullo Teddy." A kindly shopkeeper stopped him on his way in, "Where are you back from today?"

     "The clearing. Father sent me for berries." Teddy gestured to his basket overflowing with blood red berries. He'd left it outside the woods, but thankfully thought to grab it last minute on his way back. He and Mr. Hawethorn, the shopkeeper, had the same conversation nearly everyday, but Teddy was grateful, as many people simply avoided him in the town.

     "It's awfully late in the evening for berries, don't you think?" The man chuckled to himself, "Where's Damien? Isn't he supposed to be after you?"