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“We’re struggling enough to get by in the war as is.” Mr. Bittersnipe chewed on his nail in thought. The Toy Soldier was standing at attention, waiting for him to address it. It was being a good soldier! “You. Here.” The order hit it as hard as ever. Its limbs went wooden, trying to repress its mounting panic, but it marched obediently over, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him.
He looked it over with a critical eye. Its clockwork heart stuttered as he moved closer, running a finger along its machinery. A dizzy fear threatened to consume it as he carded his hand through its hair, tugging at and inspecting the tatters of its colonel’s uniform. It concentrated on keeping itself entirely still. It wasn’t supposed to draw away, no matter how desperately it wanted to.
Finally, he took a step back, taking its bag with him. It wanted to go run off and curl up somewhere in a corner but it wasn’t supposed to, it couldn’t be over yet.
It watched as he went through its bag, the tension not leaving it. It didn’t have much to carry about, given that it was only pretending to be a soldier! It used to have a lovely mandolin but it had destroyed that. Though- a realization struck it that the canary was in there! It had been riding about in the Toy Soldier’s bag for quite a while, having a lovely time! But oh dear, what if he found it and took it away? It wouldn’t be alright on its own! It needed the Toy Soldier to keep it safe!
Mr. Bittersnipe’s worry grew as he realized that it didn’t have anything of value. He kept biting his nail in that sort of concerned way. The Toy Soldier wished it could do its own worried little fidgets, but no that wasn’t right he was real and so it was different so it stayed still.
Excitement crossed his face at something he’d found in its bag. It tried to lean over to get a better look. He glanced at it and it yelped a little and went back to standing at attention. What if he’d found the canary? It didn’t think it would like that. That was its friend!
The glint of light on bronze confirmed its worst fears. It watched helplessly as he scrutinized the canary in the same way he’d done to it, rubbing a raggedy sleeve on the feathers in an attempt to clean it up. The Toy Soldier flinched in sympathy as he ran a finger across the canary’s clockwork wings, digging a nail into the mud caked in the gears that despite its best efforts had gotten everywhere during the fighting. It didn’t think that the canary liked being touched like that. It wanted to take it back and keep it safe.
The Toy Soldier couldn’t- it wasn’t supposed to. It would steal anything else without a thought, but its bird was different and it had never been meant to have it. It wasn’t sure, what kind of person it was now. It hadn’t planned to be found. It should have died, in the war. It didn’t know where to go from here.