Records of the Forest (Completed)

At Last

***click***

"It's about 3:20. I've decided to move my base to the treehouse. It's... well, it's safer than my room. Dad is relieved to have me out of the house. And I have to say the feeling is mutual." Ian paused, tapping the wooden rail. "Th-that really should really bother me more than it does. But I don't care. At last, something good's happening to me. I'm something important."

Ian smiled wistfully. "I matter."

He began to climb down the wooden ladder out of the treehouse, and started along the pathway to the town square. "If what Haider told me was true, if Jack is really going to give me this Crow's Key, Dad will just have to be proud of me. Just a few weeks ago I was just a nobody, a nobody with a crummy recorder. But now, now I matter. Man, what a crazy world..."

***click***
***click***

"I've been following the Carrot Brigade again today, carefully this time. I lost them for a bit at 5:26, but I've found them... and they seem to be beating someone up. As usual." Ian moved to better his view. "Let's see who it is... Oh my goodness, it's Jack!"

With a newfound courage, Ian stood up from behind the bushes. "Hey!" He shouted. "Leave home alone!"

Dick, the closest boy to him, turned and looked. The others followed in suit. "Whoa!" Droned Nate. "It's Ian! I thought for sure the forest got him!"

"Shut up Nate!" Scolded Dick. He then moved up closer to Ian, puffing out his chest and laughing. "Well, it is Ian. What, is this little freak your boyfriend? You weird or something? No one's here to help you now. Not that stupid forest or that stupid bug or that stupid old man Haider. You get to d- aaaaaaawrggh!"

Dick was roughly cut off as Ian full out tackled him. Ian barreled into his chest, firing both of them roughly into the ground. Dick screamed in pain as Ian bit down on him. "He just bit off my ear!"

Ian spit out blood, smiling. His voice was dark. "Not yet. But I might. Give you a better name than Carrot Brigade. Earless Dick is defiantly better. Come on, get your friends to help."

"Guys!" Dick screamed. But none of his friends moved. All turned away.

"Pathetic," Ian spat again. "How does it feel? To cry? The scream?" He stood. "Leave. I never want to see you again."

As the three boys scrambled away, Jack stood up. "Thank you." He said quietly. His voice was ageless, fake, but not artificial. Featureless. "Would you have really hurt that boy?"

"I didn't have to, did I? How are you?"

"I am... Undamaged for the most part."

"You have stuffing coming out of your arm. Come on, I have a sewing kit at home. Let's get you patched up."

Jack followed Ian slowly, his wooden hands tapping on his wooden legs, thinking. Something deep.

***click***