Work Text:
“That place is cursed.”
That’s what they all kept telling Phil.
The villagers in the town seemed friendly and kind, but they all had the same reaction once he told them where he moved. Smiles fading, faces going pale. The same expression every time. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so unnerving.
“The last folks who lived there were kind souls, a couple. They came over often for tea,” the baker mused. Phil hadn’t gotten her name, too busy juggling Tommy and his many bags.
“What happened to them?” he asked, setting Tommy down and gently taking his hand before he got lost in the crowd of people. Luckily, he was too busy looking at all the other stalls to pay attention to the adult’s conversation.
The baker sighed.
“No one knows. One day they just ran out of town, faces white as a sheet. Didn’t even stop to say goodbye,” she glanced at Tommy. “You should keep an eye on him. Strange things happen in those woods.”
Phil furrowed his brow. He wasn’t entirely surprised. He expected those woods to be full of wild animals and dangerous plants. He would be stupid to let an 8 year old in there alone. But she was the only one to warn him of them. The rest of the villagers insisted that there was something wrong with his house , that it was haunted or cursed.
None of them mentioned the woods.
The corner of her mouth quirked up at his confusion, but it didn’t stay for long.
“Most folks around here think it’s the house that drove them away. But I know better,” she placed the bread inside of a bag. “One time, when they were visiting, the wife mentioned seeing strange things in the woods. Glimpses of some creature, one that shifted between forms. I brushed it off as wild animals and that was that, but every time I saw them after they seemed more rugged. Constantly glancing over their shoulder, dark circles under their eyes.”
Phil handed her a couple silver coins. She gave him the bag, then knelt down to Tommy. From behind her back she produced one small chocolate muffin. She put it in his hands, before dramatically putting a finger to her lips.
“This can be our little secret,” she winked.
Tommy gasped and made quick work of devouring the treat.
“Thank you!” Tommy chimed with his mouth full. Despite the crumbs getting everywhere and the chocolate being smeared on his face, Phil couldn’t help but feel his heart fill with fondness.
“Thank you,” Phil repeated. “That was very kind.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she grinned. Phil turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his sleeve. He looked back to see the baker, who was shuffling nervously on her feet. “Just… be careful, alright?”
“Of course.”
And with that, she let go and the two disappeared through the crowd.
–
Phil wasn’t worried.
Some old couple saw a bear and ran for the hills, so what? It wouldn’t be the first beast that he had fought. And besides, every town has a ghost story or two. Every place he went warned him of spirits or monsters or demons, and every time it turned out to be a branch scratching at the window, a kitten stuck in the attic, or some kids playing pranks. Phil wasn’t worried.
Keeping Tommy away from the woods was just common sense, that’s all.
Letting a child run rampant was already a recipe for disaster, not counting the walking cloud of chaos that was his kid. Phil could turn away for one second and he would have burned the house down and giggled while watching the flames. Forget monsters, Tommy was the thing he should watch out for.
That’s what he told himself at least.
Maybe it was nerves from the baker’s story but the longer Phil stayed here, the more on edge he got. Things he would normally brush off as nothing started to haunt his mind.
Like the inhuman sounds he heard through the night. Chitters and howls and grunts that pierced the air and kept him from sleeping. Twisted clicks and chirps and squeaks, like something was imitating an animal but couldn’t quite get the sound right.
Or the way the shadows of the woods seemed to come alive. Dancing in the corner of his eye. Twisting more than they should. Longer than they should. Darker than they should. Even when the sun shined bright in the sky, they stayed. Like a veil hiding the forest. But what was a mask at day became a wall at night. It was like looking into the void. Pitch black nothingness stared back.
But the strangest thing he found was the tracks. Right at the edge of the woods, little more than twenty feet from their front door. Ten feet from the garden. Five feet from where Tommy played.
He tried to figure out what kind of animal left those markings. He racked his brain to see if he remembered seeing them before. When that came up blank, he turned to his many, many books. Scouring every page and picture to try and find something, anything that would make those tracks. But he found nothing.
He made sure to keep an eye on Tommy when he went outside. Always making sure he didn’t stray too far. No kid should be in those woods.
–
He only looked away for a second.
It was getting late. Tommy had begged to be able to play for just a few minutes more and Phil relented. He had already started dinner, but it would still take half an hour to finish. Letting Tommy get his energy out would make putting him to bed easier and it’s better than him hovering around his legs while he cooked.
“Okay, you can play for ten more minutes,” Phil ruffled Tommy’s hair before sending him out. He chuckled as Tommy practically tripped over himself in his haste to leave.
Usually when he plays outside, Phil is there to watch. Either by tending to the garden, sitting on the porch, or participating in whatever game Tommy has imagined up. He was always there. Just an arms reach away. But he couldn’t finish dinner outside and he couldn’t wait until Tommy came back, knowing for a fact that he would just become even more restless if he had to wait longer for food.
He leaned back slightly to be able to look outside the window, ignoring how his arms ached at the awkward position. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Tommy. He wielded a large stick, waving it back and forth as if it was a sword. Phil couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he could gather that he was continuing the game he created. A story about soldiers and a revolution, inspired by the many books that Phil read to him before bed.
He felt a sharp sting on his hand and ripped his attention away from his son. Blood trickled from his finger, dripping over the counter. Turns out looking away while cutting up vegetables was not the smartest idea. He swore as juices from the tomato he held sunk into the wound, quickly putting his finger in his mouth. He stalked to the sink and ran his hand under the water, watching the blood and juice swirl together.
Deciding it to be clean, he dried his finger and went to grab a bandage. On his way to the shelf, where he knows all first aid supplies are kept, he glanced out the window.
Tommy was gone.
Phil froze, his finger lazily dripping blood on the floor. The only thing left behind was the stick, split in half. The sun had sunk below the horizon. The light from their house being the only thing to illuminate the ground. The small lamp on the porch cast the branch aglow, almost like it was shaming him for his negligence.
Phil stumbled outside. His silhouette cast a dark shadow through the yard, like a chasm. A dark crack that spread through the earth. The world felt far away, as Phil stared at that stick. The only thing he could hear was ringing in his ears and his heartbeat, coming together like a twisted melody.
The song rose in crescendo, distorted animal calls joining the chorus as Phil looked up and saw those same strange footprints just a couple feet from the branch.
Leading into the woods.
–
“TOMMY!”
Phil raced through the woods, clutching the kitchen knife in his hand. “TOMMY, PLEASE! WHERE ARE YOU!” he desperately screamed.
It wasn’t smart. Even if he ignored whatever beast made those prints, there is still the very real danger of wolves and other wild animals out here. Yelling and racing through these trees is a certified way to get their attention and wielding nothing but a kitchen knife, still dripping tomato juice, is not a great weapon. But he didn’t care. His son was out here.
Tommy was eight years old. He was mischievous and clever, but he wouldn’t go into the woods alone. Especially not a night and he especially would not have gone this far in. It was like he disappeared. No kid could travel this far in the few seconds Phil had glanced away. Maybe he had passed him. Maybe Tommy didn’t respond to his calls because he was scared of being punished. Phil had constantly warned him not to go into the forest alone.
Or maybe he was hurt. Maybe he succumbed to the cold. Maybe wild animals had already found him. Maybe, maybe, maybe-
Phil shook his head. He can’t just sit here and panic while his son was out here alone. He would go back, there was no way that Tommy made it this far in. He might already be back at the house, having turned around once he realized where he was. Yes, Phil could imagine him sitting sheepishly on the porch. He was back at the house. He had to be.
Phil whipped around, only to freeze. These trees are different. He doesn’t remember which way he came from. He slowly turned in a circle, desperate to find something he recognized, a big boulder, a strange branch, anything. But the forest seemed to warp. He would glance away and the trees would be different. He could blink and the shadows would twist. Like the woods itself was trying to keep him lost. Trying to keep him away.
His eyes started to burn. His knuckles turned white from his tight grip on the blade. His son, his kid, his Tommy was lost. He might be hurt. He might be dead. Because of him.
“Please… he’s all I have left.” Phil pleaded, falling to his knees. “Please. Don’t take him from me. Plea-”
He couldn’t continue, voice choked by tears and fear. He didn’t know who he was talking to. God, fate, the trees, the air. Anyone who could help. Anyone who could give him the strength to keep looking, instead of freezing up here.
He heard a rustle and froze. He needed to pull himself together if his screams attracted wild animals. He won’t be of any use to Tommy dead. He yanked his head up and readied his knife.
But there was nothing there.
Instead, the trees had bent, creating a cover from the night's elements. Leaves had fallen, making a winding path on the ground. He was sure that that was not there earlier. Did he pass it by in his rush? He couldn’t have. The plants curved so unnaturally, almost like it was man-made.
Whatever it was, it was the closest thing to a lead he got.
Pushing himself to his feet, he raced through the path. His knife was ready to slice any obscuring branches, but he found that to be unnecessary. No matter how fast he ran or how many stumbles he made, he never lost sight of the trail in front of him.
Finally he broke through to a clearing. A strange opening in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the trees.
There he saw the beast.
Or rather, two beasts. At first glance it seemed to be a deer and a boar, but the longer he looked the more wrong they became.
The deer was big, bigger than any deer he had seen before. Despite this, it was incredibly thin. He could probably count each of its ribs, if he dared to get close enough. Its fur was matted and covered in dirt. Flies swarmed its face and flank, crawling into its eyes and ears. Its antlers were long, resembling a spider web more than horns. The longer he looked at it, the more unease he felt.
Next to it was a boar, or at least what Phil thought it was. While the deer could have been passed off as a normal animal if you didn’t pay attention, its companion was nothing like he had ever seen before. It was standing on its hind legs, towering over the other creature. He first thought it was a bear, but the large tusks protruding from its mouth quickly crushed that theory. It was covered in mud and bugs, like the other one, but also a red substance that he did not want to think about. While the deer was thin, dangerously so, the boar was nothing but muscle. It seems like it was the fighter of the two, according to the scars that littered its body.
Phil started to slowly creep back. Whatever those two things were, he did not want any part of it. He could maybe take on the deer if he needed to, but there was no way he could overpower the boar with just a kitchen knife. Before he could duck back into the trees, the deer shifted and revealed a small figure.
Tommy, who had his hand out. Tommy, who was two seconds away from touching it.
Phil was moving before he even processed what was happening.
He dove forward and grabbed Tommy’s outstretched arm, swinging him around until he was firmly behind him. In the same motion he swiped at the deer with his knife, nicking it in the cheek. For a split second everything froze, before the boar rushed forward. It roared in anger, straightened up, and Phil pretended to not be terrified at how much taller it was than him.
He scooped Tommy up with one arm and pressed him close to his chest. He crouched slightly to the ground and readied his weapon. The chances of him surviving the beast is extremely low, but he will be damned if he doesn’t try. Before either of them could make a move for the other though, a low croon interrupted them.
The boar instantly whirled around to face its companion, who had sunk to the floor. It raced over and carefully took the deer’s face in its hands, gently examining the wound.
Oh.
The boar wasn’t angry because Phil saved his son, nor was it angry because it was hungry. It was angry because it had hurt its friend. Looking at the way the deer huddled on the ground and made small whimpers, Phil felt bad.
“I-I’m sorry,” Phil stammered. He felt like he had gone mad, apologizing to the same beasts who took his son. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. My son was gone, and I was scared.”
That was a little bit of a lie. Phil had meant to hurt them, he was prepared to fight for his life after all. But looking at the pathetic sight before him, he doesn’t think he could do it again. He looked at his son, who was fine besides some dirt and obvious sleepiness. Neither of the beasts hurt his son, even though they had ample time to do so.
The deer stood up, ignoring the concerns of its partner, and approached Phil. He tensed, but found he couldn’t raise his knife. It stood before him then slowly lowered its head until he and it were face to face. Phil hadn’t noticed when he first saw them, but the creature’s eyes were black. Like two voids, two holes directly into its skull. It was unnerving, but Phil still couldn’t find it in himself to attack.
It looked at him closely, and Phil had to fight the urge to look away. Whatever it was looking for, it must have found, because it opened its mouth.
“Sor…ry.”
Phil startled. Its voice was hoarse and awkward, but it sounded like him. Like a bird mimicking its owner. He wondered if the creature knew the meaning of the word, or was just repeating what he had said. The deer quickly disproved this by bowing. A quick nudge to its companion, and it was also lowering itself before Phil, though not without plenty of glaring.
He paused for a moment, before also slowly bowing to the two creatures. He felt like he had gone insane. The woods must have done something to him, maybe he had died and this was the afterlife. Not what he imagined it would be like.
Tommy’s shivering interrupted his thoughts. Right, while the beasts are not an apparent danger, the freezing cold still is. He straightened and started to back away, but realized that he didn’t know where to go. He was in the middle of the forest with no lights or food or any way back home, that is if the beasts even let them leave.
Tommy wiggled out of his grasp, much to his reluctance, and toddled towards the two creatures.
“Goodbye!” He announced, and gently patted the deer on its head, before repeating the motion to the boar. Phil was two seconds from snatching his son away, but the deer gave a fond huff and gently nudged Tommy towards his father.
“Good..bye,” it repeated in his son’s voice.
Tommy grabbed Phil’s hand and started to pull him away.
“Wait, Tommy, I don’t know where we are. We need to be-” Phil turned around and froze, seeing another winding path like before. Although there were no signs, and he definitely had never seen this road before, he could just tell that it led to home. Tommy seemed to share the same sentiments, because he started dragging Phil towards it.
He opened his mouth, maybe to say thank you or to apologize again, but when he turned the two creatures were gone. Phil stayed deep in thought while the two marched back home.
–
He doesn’t know why he does it, but every day after that night he leaves out some food.
He also finds himself less wary. Those animal calls he heard at night seemed much more familiar than they did when they first moved in. What used to be a stalking danger became a gentle reminder that those creatures were still there. It was strangely comforting.
He should be terrified. Anyone would be after having narrowly escaped two beasts like that, but Phil’s mind just flashed back to the deer’s whimpering or the two bowing to him.
He also remembered how thin they were. It wasn’t smart to leave food right on the edge of the forest, it could attract all sorts of animals. But every night he leaves it out anyway and every morning it's gone, paired by a fresh set of those familiar tracks.
He pretended to not be relieved to see the food gone. He pretended that it could be an offering, a tentative peace. Food in exchange for him and his son’s safety.
He pretended to not be concerned when one morning, the food was untouched. And the next morning. And the morning after that.
Five days had passed and neither beast had come to claim the meals. Snow had started to cover the ground. It was coated in footprints near Phil’s house, from Tommy playing or him doing chores, but that ended right on the edge of the forest. All of the snow lay untouched, undisturbed, like someone had laid a blanket over the ground. Not a sign of any birds or squirrels to be found, like every inhabitant had left sometime in the night.
Some small part in Phil’s mind wondered if those two beasts were the only creatures in those woods at all.
Phil tried to reassure himself. Their disappearance was nothing to panic at. In fact, most people would be glad that those two creatures were gone. They were probably just hibernating. Or they had found a better food source. Or they succumbed to the cold. Or they were hurt. Or they were dead.
Why does his heart twist at that thought?
Why does he care? These are two beasts that had driven away the previous occupants. Had tormented his mind for weeks. Had taken his son. Why does he care?
He remembered how skinny the deer was and how many scars littered the boar's body. He remembered how they let Tommy gently pet their heads. He remembered how they helped them back home.
‘Fuck it,’ Phil thought, grabbing a blanket and some food. ‘If I've gone insane, I might as well embrace it.’
–
Maybe he didn’t think this through.
After tucking Tommy into bed, he had grabbed everything that he thought he might need. Armed with a small bag, a coat, and a lanturn, he braved the forest. If he thought it was unsettling before, it was downright eerie now. Not a single mark in the snow, or wind through the trees. Just pure silence, interrupted only by the crunching noise of his footsteps in the slush.
Honestly, it seemed like a good idea at first but after a few minutes of walking, Phil realized he was lost.
“Hello? I just- or well I…” Phil trailed off. If anyone were to stumble upon him now, they would surely think he had lost his mind. But talking to the woods worked last time so he is going to pray that they will be kind to him again.
“I noticed that they had stopped eating the food I left out. I… was worried.”
Phil waited with bated breath. The forest was still eerily quiet. The only thing making noise was him, by speaking and his steps crunching the snow. It felt like he was disturbing something he shouldn’t have. Like a graveyard or an abandoned town, something that you instinctively knew to stay quiet in.
A branch snapped behind him. He whirled around.
There, in its towering glory, stood the boar. Its companion was nowhere to be seen.
Phil felt his mouth run dry. While the beast had been kind to his son, he had not made a great first impression. He recalled how furious it looked when he had hurt the deer.
“Hello. I- uh, well I saw that you two had stopped visiting and I, um…” Phil stammered, growing more and more meek as the creature stared at him, unamused. He quickly gathered as much courage as he could, before the boar decided it had enough of his stuttering. “I was worried. It is- It’s so cold out and I just wanted to bring you two some stuff. Uh, just in case…”
Phil held out his basket, slowly opening it to reveal the food and blankets. The boar looked at him appraisingly and walked closer.
It examined his basket, carefully inspecting each item before placing it back. He would have laughed, if he wasn’t sure that the boar would take offense.
After completing its search, the boar straightened again to its full stature. It started to walk away, only looking back once when Phil did not move to follow. It tilted its head towards the woods and then started to run.
Phil scrambled after it, desperately making sure to keep it in his line of sight. While the boar decided to let him follow it, he doubted that it would come back if Phil got lost. Thankfully, the woods seemed to be on his side. The trees bent and the roots on the ground disappeared, making keeping up with the boar a much easier task.
Eventually the two stopped at a clearing with a singular tree in the center, Phil nearly bumping into the boar's back at the sudden stop. He bent over with his hands on his knees, panting at the unexpected exercise. The boar glanced down at him, and if Phil didn’t know any better, he would’ve said it looked amused.
It stepped into the clearing and hummed a low croon. It was jarring to see the soft sound come out of the mouth of the hulking beast. Another croon echoed throughout the clearing, with a much smoother and higher pitch tone.
The boar stepped further until it reached the tree. It placed one hand onto the bark, and Phil watched the wood twist and curve. The side of the tree split, creating a small opening that the boar ducks into. Phil hesitantly comes closer.
The inside of the tree was hollow. The ground was lined with leaves and twigs, resembling a giant bird nest.
And there, right in the middle, was the deer. It was curled up with its back towards Phil. He thought it was asleep, or maybe worse, but it raised its head to greet the boar. It perked up when it noticed Phil. While its dark eyes still remained blank, its ears raised and it made an attempt to turn its body towards him.
The boar once again hovered nervously around it while it turned, and the deer ignored its worries. Phil bit down an amused smile.
The deer peered at him once it settled.
“I’m sorry, Tommy didn’t come. It’s just me.”
The two creatures tilted their heads in unison, and Phil couldn’t hide his endeared grin anymore.
“To..mmy?” the deer mimicked.
Phil startled when he heard its, or well his, voice.
“That’s my son’s name. You met him before.” Phil held his hand to his waist to convey Tommy’s height. The boar stared for a moment before its eyes flashed with recognition. It grunted something to its companion, who also seemed to understand. Brazened with this success, Phil continued, “And my name is Phil.”
“F…il?” the deer repeated. The slight butchering of his name reminded him of Tommy when he was first learning how to speak. Always mixing the ‘Fs’,’ ‘Th’s’, and ‘Ph’s.’
While the appearance of the two creatures were nothing short of terrifying, Phil couldn’t help but become slightly fond of their childish mannerisms.
He knew better than to say that out loud, though.
Phil knelt down and opened his bag. He took out and placed each blanket on his knees to avoid getting them wet from the snow. He then carefully got out the food, four cooked rabbits he had bought from the village and an assortment of vegetables, each wrapped up in a small handkerchief.
“I brought some food, because I noticed you were not eating what I had left out,” Phil gently placed the food on the edge of the nest, carefully watching the two’s reactions. When he was met with no hostility, he continued. “I also grabbed some blankets. Winter is awfully cold this year, so I’d just thought…”
He glanced up, and he could swear that they were exchanging amused looks. He felt his face flush, but still offered the quilts.
The boar lumbered forward. It knelt down, but instead of grabbing the gifts like Phil had expected, it instead just stared at him. Similar to the way the deer looked at him before, it seemed to be looking for something. Whatever it saw must have pleased it, because it huffed, patted Phil on the head, and then took the items.
It turned and gave the vegetables to the deer, and then used the blankets to pad their nest. Once satisfied, it grabbed one of the rabbits and began to dig in.
Phil stood awkwardly, unsure what to do now that he had completed what he set out to do.
The deer chittered and lowered its head to him, like it was attempting to bow while laying down.
“Oh, no need to do that! I just wanted to help,” Phil rushed to reassure. The deer gave him one more look, and he was definitely sure that it was an amused one, before he heard the familiar sound of trees and ground shifting behind him.
He turned to see the same winding path he saw earlier. He started to walk away, before whirling back.
“If you need anything, don’t be scared to visit.”
He turned and rushed down the trail, before he could regret what he just said.
–
When he extended that offer, he expected them to probably not take it up at all. Or maybe a few weeks from now, some ominous sign would happen to tell him that they needed help.
What he didn’t expect is for the two of them to be right at his door the next morning.
There wasn’t much Phil could do besides step aside and let them in. Tommy gasped in delight before rushing forward to hug them. It made an absurd image, his son hugging and rambling to these two towering creatures.
The sunlight made the two appear much more softer, no longer covered in dark shadows. They were, however, still covered in mud. And was tracking mud into the house. And that wouldn’t do.
Phil quickly ushered the three into the bathroom. Surprisingly, he didn’t fear any aggression or backlash from his demands. In fact, the most he got was an annoyed huff from the boar.
Getting enough water was a pain, but it helped to have three extra sets of hands. Or well, two sets of hands and one deer that just carried the buckets with its antlers. All the while, Tommy chattered about things he did, games he played, stories that were read to him.
The deer didn’t take much convincing once the bath was ready, although it did almost slip when stepping in. Phil gently washed its coat, ignoring the brown water that was accumulating in the tub.
“Do you two have names? I’m sorry, I didn’t ask last night,” Phil asked. Tommy perked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bath, almost falling in.
“My name is Tommy!” He proudly exclaimed, and he looked so happy that Phil decided to not tell him that he already told them their names.
Tommy held his hand out to the boar, but it only stared at him in confusion. Not to be deterred, he gently grabbed it’s hand and shook it. “This is how we say hello! Dad says it’s polite.”
“Tommy,” the dear mimicked, much clearer than it sounded last night. Phil wondered if it had practiced, or maybe it was just a fast learner. Tommy beamed at the deer, before turning to the boar with a pleading look.
It shifted nervously and Phil started to tell Tommy to leave it alone, only for it to open its mouth.
“T…om,” it grunted. Its voice was much deeper than the deers, and much rougher. Regardless, Tommy lit up and much to Phil’s surprise, it turned to him. “P’il.”
It wasn’t right at all. It was clunky and the pronunciation was wrong. But it had tried, and Phil couldn’t help but be touched.
Once the deer was cleaned, Phil carefully helped it step out. Wielding towels, him and the boar wiped it down. Once done, they stepped back to view their work.
The deer’s coat was actually a very light brown with small darker speckles surrounding its eyes. It looked less intimidating like this. If Phil were to ignore its lanky stature and its eyes, he would have thought it was just a normal animal.
For the first time, Phil started to wonder where they came from. No other creature he knew could speak or move the trees. Were they born, just as any other living being, only to be cursed? Or were they created by some bored God?
No matter. There’s no use thinking of that stuff now. Even if he asked, he doubted they would tell him, if they even knew themselves.
He drained the tub and the group set out once again to get more water.
“If you two do not have names, would you like us to give you some?” Phil offered, gently handing Tommy a half full bucket. He was too small to carry anything more, but he would throw a fit if he was left out.
“I’m very good at naming things!” Tommy boasted.
The deer lowered its head and nudged Tommy, looking amused.
“I am! I wouldn’t give you a boring name!” Tommy insisted, practically hanging off of the deer while grabbing its antlers for support. It chuffed and then straightened. Tommy shrieked in laughter as he was held up in the air. Phil didn’t bother to step in, it was obvious the two were fond of his son, he doubted they would let him get hurt.
“ If we give them a name, it would be one that they also like, Toms.” Phil reminded as they started their trek back to the house. “Would you two like that?”
The creatures glanced at each other. One chirped and grunted, the other chittered and squeaked. Tommy nodded his head, as if he could understand their conversation. After they apparently reached a consensus, the two turned to Phil and bowed their heads.
“Alright then, let's get you two a name,” Phil grinned.
–
“Jeremy, Todd, Charlotte, Eugene,” Phil listed off names, consulting a small book in his hand. Messy scrawls of baby names that Phil had written before Tommy was born. He remembered spending hours hunched over his desk, scribbling in this small book. Determined to give his child the best name, he spent hours writing and writing. Eventually, he settled on Tommy, but he was glad that he kept the journal because it seems his naming days were far from over.
He was perched on the sink, half watching Tommy and the deer try to wash the boar. Or at least he thinks that was washing, it seems to have turned into who can annoy it the most by splashing water on its head. Oh well, none of it is getting on the floor, so Phil doesn’t mind.
“Robin, Alex, Riley, Wilbur-” the deer, who was previously letting out teasing barks, perked up. It quickly turned to Phil, almost taking him out with its antlers in the process. “Wilbur? Do you like that name?”
The deer threw its head up and howled. Phil was gonna take that as a yes.
“Wilbur is a lovely name,” Phil smiled as Tommy also threw his head up and howled, though it sounded much more childish than animalistic. Wilbur ran to its companion, tripping over itself in its hurry.
“Wilbur,” it delightedly repeated.
The boar chuffed and flicked water at the deer, but Phil could tell that it was pleased.
Feeling like they should probably hurry before an all out water fight began, Phil started to help wash the boar. He was surprised to see that under all that dirt and mud was light pink skin, covered in a small layer of fur. He had been referring to it as a boar all this time, but maybe a pig was more appropriate. Either way, it was impressive that something that sweet of a color could be so intimidating. The scars that littered its body probably helped.
Humming to himself, Phil left to get a healing potion and a rag. When he came back, the boar had made quick work of drying itself off with a towel.
“While we think of a name, could I do this? It is a healing potion. I don’t think that it can completely heal your scars, but I would rather be safe than sorry,” Phil explained.
The boar scrutinized him for a moment, before slowly nodding its head. Phil led the group to the living room, gently directing it to sit on the couch. The deer layed down near the fireplace, with Tommy deciding to use its flank as a pillow.
Phil stepped back and took in this image. Seeing these two creatures in his living room would be funny at best, terrifying at worst. But at this point, he didn’t really care. These two young animals, and they must be young judging by their reactions to everything, were all alone out there in the woods. Hurting and starving with only each other as company. Phil felt his heart twinge.
A small feeling bubbled up from his chest to his throat, a sound that desperately wanted to be made. Phil swallowed it back down and sat on the couch. He held his hand out and patiently waited until the boar gave him its arm.
“Alright, where were we? Were there any names that I had listed that you liked?” Phil doused the rag with the potion and began to run it along the scars. The boar shaked its head. “Okay, I’ll keep saying some then. Let me know if there is one that you like.”
Phil carefully opened his book on his knee, positioning it so he can read while also applying the potion. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
“Oliver, Elizabeth, Finn, Molly…”
–
“Eurydice, Clover, Isaac, Summer,” Phil droned.
After tending to each scar and bandaging the fresh ones, they turned their full focus towards finding a name. To no success.
Phil was almost to the end of his book and the boar did not want a single name. Instead, it just stared at him, or rather the words on the page. He wasn’t sure if it could read but it certainly seemed to be trying. He filed that knowledge away for later, instead clearing his throat and glancing up.
Tommy was half asleep, using Wilbur as a pillow. The deer had its head on the ground, and Phil would have thought it was also asleep, if not for its open eyes pinned at the two on the couch.
“Summer, Richard, Isabella, and Zachary. Do you like either of those names?” Phil asked, reaching the end of the book.
The boar grunted and shook its head. It almost seemed a bit upset, ears drooping a tiny bit. He wouldn’t have even noticed if he wasn’t looking.
“Don’t worry, mate. We will find you a name,” Phil hesitated for a moment, before lightly patting it on the arm. He stood and went to put away the potion and the book. Wilbur raised its head, jostling Tommy in the process.
“Did you get a name?” Tommy yawned, rubbing his eyes.
The boar chuffed. Both Tommy and Wilbur deflated, although Phil had no clue how Tommy knew that that sound meant a ‘no.’
The deer gently removed itself from Tommy. It walked over to the boar and placed its head on top of its, ignoring the awkward stretch from the height difference. It hummed lowly as the boar relaxed. The low sound filled the air, almost like it was singing. Phil stood in the doorway, just watching them. He could feel the tension leaking out of his body, and could see Tommy do the same.
That same urge bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it down once again.
“We’ll find you a name. Don’t worry, we just need to think some up on our own,” Phil said softly, not wanting to ruin whatever magic has swarmed his living room.
Tommy had no such reservations.
“OH! I GOT THE PERFECT NAME!” he screeched, startling everyone else. He scrambled out of the room, almost sliding into the wall in his haste. The boar grunted, looking almost embarrassed. Wilbur just trilled and laid on the floor once more, content to use its companion's knee as a pillow.
Tommy rushed back, in his hands was clutched a book, the same book that Phil had been reading to him every night. A story about a warrior who liberated a kingdom from tyranny. It was Tommy’s absolute favorite.
“Your name can be Technoblade! That’s the name of the main character in my book! He is so cool and strong, just like you!” Tommy beamed, opening the book to show the boar an illustration of the character.
“Now, Tommy. I’m not sure if-”
“Technobl…ade,” the boar spoke, testing out the name. Phil startled. It was the first time it had said anything without prompting.
“Technoblade,” Wilbur repeated, absolutely delighted.
The boar didn’t howl or rush around like its companion did, but it smiled.
It was a little disconcerting, seeing a grin on an animal's face, but Phil was happy. Both creatures now had a name.
Technoblade and Wilbur.
A little bit of a strange duo, but they both seemed pleased. Who was Phil to judge?
–
After that day, they always seemed to be around.
Right as sunrise, Phil would wake up to two creatures in his living room. Right at sunset, they would chirp goodnight and return to the woods.
Phil found himself getting used to it all. He would always get enough food for the four of them. He created a nest of blankets and pillows by the fireplace for Wilbur. Getting books he thought Technoblade might like. He was pleased when the two started to become a healthy weight, now getting daily meals.
He started to teach Techno how to read and he helped Wilbur with speaking. He attempted to teach them about the outside world, societal standards and norms. One time he spent an entire day trying to tell them what pronouns were, but they didn’t really understand.
Eventually they just settled with the same pronouns that he and Tommy had, and Phil would never admit that he tears up a bit at that.
Both were very smart, in their own right. Technoblade had taken to reading fantastically, getting through a new book practically everyday. He seemed particularly fond of adventures and tales, much to the delight of Tommy.
Wilbur, on the other hand, excelled at speaking. Even slowly developing a voice of his own, instead of copying Phils. It was deep and smooth, still with a hint of Phil’s accent, but it was undoubtedly his. He also was very interested in music. Phil had pulled out his old guitar and he would listen for hours while he played.
Neither were very interested in each other's hobbies though. Wilbur showed no interest in reading and Techno rarely spoke, but they both seemed proud of each other anyway.
It was strange, but Phil very much enjoyed their company. Sitting on the bench with Techno while Wilbur and Tommy played. Strumming a guitar in the living room with Wilbur’s head in his lap. If anyone were to stumble upon them now, they would think he has gone insane.
But Phil doesn’t care. Insane or not, these two are family now.
Tommy was also especially fond of the two, having taken to repeating their animal calls. It wasn’t uncommon to hear him echo each chirp and grunt and bark. In fact, he was getting quite good at it, too. Sometimes, if he wasn’t looking, he couldn’t tell who out of the three made the noise.
There was still that strange urge once and a while. Something stuck in his throat that begged to come out. The feeling increased every time he heard them together, almost like he also wanted to repeat those noises.
He always brushed it off as just a strange by-product of having them here. Strange things seem to follow Techno and Wilbur everywhere. Like how the woods seem to get closer and closer everyday.
And how sometimes he can find black feathers in his bed when he wakes up.
But he always brushed those things off. He knew that they would never hurt him or Tommy. It was hard to think of them as dangerous when he sees them playing with his son, or squinting at a book, or swaying to music.
Those two would never harm them.
–
Phil would be the first to admit that he might have been getting a bit too comfortable.
He rarely went to the town anymore. He had little reason to. The animals have returned now that winter is long gone. Catching enough for all of them was easy. Plus, there was his garden, which was thriving, more than it ever had before. The woods provided for anything they might need.
Although, he supposes that it is reasonable for the townspeople to think that the house was abandoned.
After constantly spreading rumors about its supposed hauntedness, having the owner and his son suddenly stop appearing in town would cause anyone concern. Too bad, nobody had come to check. Maybe they tried, but couldn’t make it far through the woods. Maybe they were too scared to even attempt to.
Either way, it seemed that the general consensus was that the house was abandoned, either the occupants had fled in the night, or worse.
Phil supposed that he could have also made an effort to go down to the town more. He really shouldn’t be surprised that this had happened.
Still, waking up to the door banging open was very rude.
He peeked out of his room, cursing himself for not having a weapon in his room. Carefully, he crept across the hall to Tommy’s room. He nudged the door open and a blur of something latched around him, scratching his arms.
“Woah, woah! Tommy, it’s me,” Phil whispered. Tommy froze, nails still latched in his skin. Tears filled his eyes as he continued to cling to Phil, although with much less scratching.
“Shhhh, it’s alright. I need you to be brave for me, okay Toms?” Phil soothed, running a hand through his son's hair. “Lock the door and hide under the bed. I’ll let you know when you can come out.”
Phil regretfully untangled himself from Tommy and kissed him on the forehead, before nudging him towards the bed. He winced slightly at the sting from the scratches on his arm. Tommy must have sharper nails than he thought, to be able to cut that deeply.
Tommy turned to Phil, tears streaming down his face. He gave a shaky chitter, and Phil felt that familiar feeling rise once again. Only this time, he didn’t swallow it down.
He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was attempting to do. A small chirp bubbled out, awkward and small. But Tommy beamed, and it felt good to finally release what had been building in his chest for so long.
Phil crept out of the room again, making sure to close the door as quietly as he could. All of his hunting gear was outside, so that’s a no go. The knives in the kitchen seemed like his best bet, but if those people had better weapons then he was done for.
Stopping at the top of the stairs, he knelt down and peeked through the railings. There were three people, all talking loudly in the living room. Two were stuffing as much as they could into a bag, while another was laying on the couch.
Phil felt a sudden rage surge through his body. These people broke into his house, his territory, just for a quick buck. Getting dirt on the carpet, not caring what they damaged in their search for valuables. He forced himself to take deep breaths. Jumping into a fight without a weapon would not be a good idea. Hell, even if he does manage to get a knife, 3v1 are not very fair odds.
He slowly sneaked down the stairs, mindful to avoid the squeaky steps.
“Can ya hurry up? This place gives me the creeps,” the man on the couch whined.
“We would go faster if you helped us,” the one by the fireplace snarked, a woman judging by her voice.
“Both of you, shut up!” the third one snapped. He seemed like the leader of the group, if the way the other two instantly cowed said anything.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Phil stayed crouched. Somewhat hiding behind the couch, he slowly crept backwards.
Feeling his back hit the wall, he quietly inched along it until he reached the doorway. There he quickly dipped inside. Once safe, or as safe as one could be in this situation, he sighed and stood up.
And made eye contact with a robber, who was in the middle of eating Phil’s food.
Seems like there were four invaders, rather than three.
Phil launched forward, but the man had already opened his mouth and started shouting. Phil tackled him to the ground, hands covering his mouth, but it was too late.
The other robbers ran into the room, all freezing for a moment before descending onto Phil.
Arms being tied behind his back from rope– where they got that he has no clue– before being shoved on the floor, right in front of the fireplace.
“Well, well, well, looks like this place ain't abandoned after all,” one of them sneered, the man who was sitting on the couch if Phil remembered correctly. He had a nasally voice, like someone talking through a pinched nose.
The leader smacked that one on the head.
“Idiot. This complicates things, we gotta hurry now,” he barked. The man from the kitchen grabbed the bag and ran upstairs. Phil desperately tried to hide his panic, praying that Tommy would stay hidden.
“Is there anyone else here?” the leader grabbed Phil’s chin and forced him to look at him. Phil just spit in his face. The woman cackled as he cursed and wiped his face.
“I think there issss, ” she sing songed, grin growing so much that Phil could see it from behind the crude masks they were wearing.
“You,” the leader pointed to the nasally one. “Check the outside. Make sure nobody can leave.”
Phil watched as he left, grumbling all the way.
“There’s no one else here. I live alone,” he insisted, trying to ignore how hard his heart was pounding.
“Oh really?” the woman taunted, getting close enough that Phil could smell her terrible breath. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”
“FOUND SOMEONE, BOSS.”
Phil felt his mouth run dry as the man came back downstairs, holding in his grasp a thrashing Tommy. His son was a blur of curses and animal noises, scratching every bit he could. It took all three of them to hold him down so they could tie him up. Behind the terror, Phil also felt a small surge of pride.
“Jesus, what do you feed that thing,” the leader muttered, depositing Tommy next to Phil before nursing all of his new cuts.
All the bravado his son had displayed quickly disappeared. Instead, Tommy tucked his face into Phil’s shoulder, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.
Phil attempted to comfort him, but there wasn’t much he could do when his arms were tied behind his back.
“Hiding anything else from us?” the woman sneered, seemingly delighted in what was happening. “Any other-”
She was cut off by a scream. The entire room froze.
A blood curdling scream from the man who went outside, only to be cut off suddenly, like his vocal cords were cut. The silence left behind was eerie, like the entire world had gone silent, but Phil wasn’t scared.
He knew who was out there.
“You two, go look!” the leader snapped at the other robbers before whirling around to Phil. He grabbed a chunk of his hair, yanking Phil’s face closer. “What was that? Who else is here?!”
Two more shouts came from outside, this time much shorter. Like something hadn’t even given the man a moment to exhale before silencing him. The room became darker, colder. Phil glanced outside the window to see trees, trees from the woods, trees that definitely shouldn’t be that close.
“You’ve made them mad,” Tommy muttered, face still tucked in Phil’s arm.
The leader turned his attention to him. He grabbed Tommy by the arm and yanked him to his feet. Phil snarled and thrashed, but the ropes were steadfast.
“WHO IS HERE?!” the leader shouted. His hand went to his belt, where a knife was sheathed. Before his fingers could even touch the handle, however, the door slammed open.
Phil was thrust back to that night when he first met them. Dark woods, pounding heartbeat, and two unknown creatures.
Except, this time he wasn’t scared.
He knows they would never hurt him or Tommy.
A scream tore its way out of the robber's lips, antlers stabbing straight through his chest. Like a knife through butter, the horns raised, cutting a whole through his torso to his neck. Blood splattered the walls and floor, like someone had thrown a can of red paint.
A familiar pink hand gently extracted Tommy from the iron grip, before it raised to the robbers face. One could almost imagine it was patting his head, if not for the tightening grip and the slow cracks and crunches that filled the room.
One pop later, and the robber was tossed carelessly across the floor.
The ropes fell away and Phil looked up to see a very pissed off Wilbur and Techno.
Tommy rushed forward and flung his arms around the boar, not at all caring about the mess.
“I knew you would come! I knew it!” Tommy chirped. Techno and Wilbur crooned back, checking the both of them for any injuries.
Techno scooped up Tommy and they all settled together on the floor, holding each other. Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno were making trills and chitters and grunts. Phil barely hesitated before adding a few caws of his own.
They still needed to clean. Unfortunately, the robbers left quite a big mess while going through their things. Not to mention the pile of guts on the carpet. They would also have to get water to run enough baths. Plus, Phil will need to make breakfast for all of them. And he supposes he should probably go down to the town at some point just to let them know he is alive.
But they can stay right here, for a while. Together.