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It was early morning, and the trees swayed in the wind with a rustling noise. Below their towering bodies was the shrubbery of bushes, small insects and fallen pine needles. Mud squished under the feet of Woodie as he made his way deeper into the forest, holding his axe Lucy over his shoulder. The night before had been terrifying; his transformation had taken place, like usual on a full moon, but it had been worse. Far worse. He had become an animal, wild and unable to be calmed. Lucy had to…Deal with him. She was still
upset about it which was why even though it was morning, they were out to chop wood. He imagined everyone else didn’t want to see him after what he did anyway. It’s not your fault, they told him, you didn’t have any control, but he…
“Woodie, come on. We should start to chop.” Lucy’s gentle voice pushed him out of the thoughts he had gotten stuck in. Right. Time to chop. The swinging of his axe and his rhythmic panting were music to his ears. Lucy encouraged him as he continued. Before long, he couldn’t help but sing.
“Fifty thousand lumberjacks, fifty thousand packs
Fifty thousand dirty rolls of blankets on their backs
Fifty thousand minds made up to strike and strike like men
For fifty years, they've "packed" a bed but never will again!”
The tune continued as he worked, hitting trees in time to the beat.
"Such a lot of devils," that's what the papers say
"They've gone on strike for shorter hours and a raise in pay
They left the camps, the lazy tramps, they all walked out as one
They say they'll win the strike or put the bosses on the bum!"
His voice echoed as Lucy sung along, and a grin came over his face. This was what he loved to do the most; chop wood and sing. And spend time with Lucy of course. It continued for a good few hours before footsteps caused Woodies singing to halt.
“Aw, I was enjoying that…”
Emerging from the trees was Maxwell. Ah, Maxwell. Woodie had started to take a liking to him, mainly because of the fact he was the only other one who understood what it was like to transform into a monster with the unstoppable urge to hurt people. Of course, he still thought he was kinda a jerk.
“Ey, Maxwell. What are you doing around these parts?” Though his tone was friendly, there was a hint of sneering behind it. Maxwell merely raised an eyebrow but didn’t mention what he heard. “Well, I heard that you were out early. I wanted to make sure you were okay after last nights…situation.” Woodies warm smile faded and he looked down, kicking at dirt.
“Yeah well that’s all anyone seems to want to talk about.” Maxwell faltered a little at his words. He merely cleared his throat and adujusted the smooth velvet gloves he wore, speaking in a calm tone. “I was just worried for you, Woodie. I know how stressful transformations can be.”
That was true.
Woodies shoulders slumped a little and his eyes flickered back up to Maxwell. “Yeah, that’s true. I just hate everyone seein’ me the way they do, you know?” He sat down on one of the many stumps. After a moment, Maxwell sat near him. “Well, I can certainly understand that. Think how everyone else sees me.” It took a couple seconds, and then Woodies smile came back. “Hah, yeah. You were a real jerk back then, eh?” Maxwell smiled too, hoping that his company was cheering Woodie up a bit. “A narcissistic jerk too!” The smile turned into a chuckle, and Woodie pat the frail man on the back. They sat there for a few minutes, comfortably looking up at the sky in silence.
“…Hey, Maxwell?”
He turned at the mention of his name.
“Do…Do you think the others see me as a man, or a monster?” Air was sucked in through his teeth. That was a hard question.“Well…That’s a difficult question.”
Woodie blinked. “Difficult? It sounds simple to me, eh?”
“It’s difficult because I don’t know what other people are thinking about you.”
“…Ah.” Woodie looked to the side sadly, his brows furrowed with the weight of many years of self-hatred and anger. Maxwell moved his hand and placed it on Woodies shoulder. “But, I know what I’m thinking.” He looked back at Maxwell, his brow lifted. “And I’m thinking that you’re not a monster.” A smile came over Woodies face. His eyes crinkled with happiness and his teeth, slightly wonky and faded, peered out from between his lips and rough ginger beard. “Thanks, Maxwell. Thanks”
He looked into Maxwells eyes and Maxwell looked back, a smile of his own coming on as he felt his lips stretch. They stayed there, staring into each others eyes. It seemed as if they could sit there forever, Maxwells almost black eyes staring dreamily into Woodies dark blue ones. That was until they heard Winona calling for the pair and they stood up, Maxwell brushing his tailored pants and Woodie picking up Lucy and sharpening her.
“There you both are! Come on, I’ll help you carry the wood back.”
She picked up as many logs as she could carry, Maxwell commanding his servants to do the same. It seemed as if she could tell something had happened between the two, and didn’t bring up how they kept glancing at each other or stealing little stares before realising Winona could see them. And without another word, the trio walked back to camp, the sky a fresh blue with the sun beaming down onto the ground and trees.