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“It’s a rock fact!”
“It...ams not,” Skwisgaar said slowly. “Yous have been singings the word rock for forty five minutes. That ams not a fact, nor ams it about rock.”
“My brother would think it’s a rock fact,” Greg whimpered, clearly hurt.
“Where ams your brothers anyway?”
“He’s somewhere,” Greg replied, hugging his rock friend with its little painted on face close to him. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Yous...don’ts know?”
“He had to go away. Or he got to, I guess,” Greg said. “The important thing is he’s not here, and he’s probably doing well. Maybe he finally talked to Sara!”
Skwisgaar didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what this kid was on about, but Greg swore he knew how to help him get out of the woods. Which was nice, considering he had no memory of how he’d gotten there to begin with.
“I bets he has,” Skwisgaar said. “What abouts you?”
“What about me?” Greg replied, sing-song.
“...Yous...lives in the woods? Who ams looking after yous?”
Greg’s eyes filled with tears, but he brushed them away. “I look after me. And my frog! He helps look after me!”
Skwisgaar tilted his head and stared at the frog Greg thrust towards him. “Um. That’s...goods. But your brother-”
“Wirt is far away,” Greg sang softly. “Far, far, far away, and that’s okay!”
There was nothing more to be gained from Greg in that moment, as he bounced down the road, holding his frog above his head and swaying him back and forth, singing his newly made song over and over.
“There ams a bar, maybes a taverns thing?” Skwisgaar said, gently grabbing one of Greg’s arms before he could bounce away again. “Can wes stop there and gets food?”
“Are you hungry?” Greg asked, confused.
“I...no,” Skwisgaar pondered. “I thoughts I should be, by nows. But...no. I’m nots.”
“Sooooo....on we go!” Greg shouted, taking off at break-neck speed down the dirt road.
“Waits!” Skwisgaar called, and chased after him. He had no interest in anything resembling fatherhood, but he couldn’t help but worry for this kid. In the back of his mind, he could just barely admit that maybe, Greg reminded him a little bit of Toki, or how Toki could have been as a kid.
“I’m the Highwayman,” the man stepped onto the road, and Greg skidded to a stop, Skwisgaar doing the same just behind him.
“Goods for you,” Skwisgaar said. “We gots to go, comes on, Greg.”
“I make ends meet,” the Highwayman continued.
“Delightfuls, have a wonderful nights!” Skwisgaar called back as he gently pulled Greg around the Highwayman and down the road.
The woods surrounding them rustled, and suddenly the Highwayman was in front of them again.
“...I work with my hands...”
He didn’t want to think this man was dangerous, despite his apparent name/title.
But something itched at the back of his mind, and he reacted blindly.
He picked Greg up, and sprinted down the road away from the man, checking the sides of the road as he went to see if the Highwayman was following somehow.
“Put me down!” Greg screeched, and he stopped dead and set him down.
“He wasn’t going to hurt us!” Greg sighed. “He’s just the Highwayman!”
“By names, that ams literally someone you don’ts want to meets on the road!” Skwisgaar argued. “My English ams not always greats, but I’m not stupid!”
“Wirt wasn’t either, but he acted stupid too!” Greg shouted back.
That broke him. Fat tears rolled down Greg’s face, and he let Skwisgaar pick him back up without another protest, sobbing into his shirt.
“Where should we goes next?” Skwisgaar asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Greg sniffled. “Do you have to go, right away?”
Skwisgaar shook his head. “No. Still don’t knows how to leaves this place anyways. Maybes I can stays a bit, helps you try and get back to your brother?”
“I don’t think I can,” Greg replied with a sorrowful whine.
“Wes tries anyway,” Skwisgaar said. “My brothers amn’ts related by bloods, but I wants to get backs to them. We shoulds get you back to yours too.”
“Wirt’s my half-brother,” Greg said softly. “But I love him like a full brother. He’s really cool.”
The dark of the night was unsettling, but Skwisgaar was determined not to let it scare him, for Greg’s sake. For however long this kid had been all alone; he needed this, he needed someone older to look after him so he could be as scared or sad or whatever as he wanted to be, even if it was only temporary.
“Whiles we travel, what else can you tells me abouts Wirt? Yous said he likes musics, what does he listens to?”
“Well...” Greg’s voice, light and excited now, tears drying, echoed down the road as they continued on.
At the tavern door, the inhabitants of the tavern looked out at them and shook their heads in unison.
“That long-haired stranger ain’t leavin’, is he?” the Butcher asked the Tavern Keeper.
She shook her head. “Don’t think so. A shame, really. But good for that little one. Little ones need someone to keep them out of danger in the wood.”
They all nodded and sighed as they went back inside. He wasn’t the first to end up staying, and he wouldn’t be the last.
Just another night in the Unknown, simple as that.