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Wirt was, for a lack of a better word, completely and utterly lost, alone, and cold. The gentle sound of the mill whirled through his ears as Greg waddled around, that frog in his grip. He was briefly aware of the amphibian wiggling from Greg's arms and vanishing from sight. The teen didn’t really pay attention to the mindless poetic rambles dripping from his lips. He didn’t care much for the soft yet firm texture of the couch beneath his body. Wirt didn’t mind much about anything right now. His heart had been broken and now was hopelessly and eternally lost in the strange dark woods. And of all people to ruin his young life, he had been Jason Funderberker. Wirt’s life was ruined. BY JASON FUNDERBERKER. The total package! Everything Sara could ever want or hope for in a man! Jason! HE Had stolen her away? He rolled over on the couch, pulling his poncho over his head in dismay as the dusty haired teen let out a gentle wail. Not only had his life been ruined, he had nothing left to care about, nothing important, just… being lost in the woods forevermore.
Well maybe there was just one thing the begotten poet found inside his broken self to worry over. Greg declaring he was going to go outside. Into the strange. Dark. Unknown, Woods WIrt had been dismissing as unimportant over his crushed dreams. The brunette teen sat right up, for the first time feeling a shot of anything but deep sorrow shoot through his chest after entering this godforsaken place. “Hey, Greg, wait” He called, rubbing his temples, the feeling twisting and turning inside him as he reached his free hand to the small boy. The little man stalled on his way to the door, getting ready to fuss. Greg looked between Wirt and the door, his face beginning to turn a tomato red of pure distaste.
“But Wirt! Kitty-“
“No. Greg, just come over here okay? We don’t know what’s out there, I want you close to me” Wirt sighed, folding his hands in his laps as he gestured over to his half brother to come over. The forlorn teen drowned his worry with a look of annoyance. Wirt may have lost any chance he had with Sara, but the last thing he wanted was losing his annoyance of a brother out in that Unknown place.. His dark eyes started at Greg, watching the child with masked concern cleverly hidden. Greg opened his mouth to complain but stopped when he found some candy in his pocket, pulling it out and fumbling with it, anything to avoid Wirt’s demanding gaze. The small teapot clad boy made his way to the older boy and climbed up on the couch, humming a little song as he nestled against a less than pleased Wirt’s chest. Wirt let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, a feeling of relief covering his body. The damp child in his hands was safe. From what Wirt couldn’t say, but the longer he dwindled, the more drowning the feeling in Wirt’s lungs felt.
Greg was warm. Warner than the fire lit by the woodsman had been anyhow, yet something about his hair, his clothes, it felt damp. Damer than it should have been from a night of trick-or-treating. Wirt was never particularly fond of the child, or his side of the family. But this place was strange, and cold, and his brother needed to be safe. The boy couldn’t place why still, but he had a feeling nagging at the back of his mind. If I had let Greg go outside…. He held Greg tighter, turning on the couch to shelter him, from what Wirt was’t quite sure. ‘Maybe I should have him sit by the fire, damp clothes can’t be comfortable….’ His thoughts lulled on gently in this fashion, Greg shifting in his brother's grip and kicking his legs and humming a diddy of some kind.
Interrupted by what could be only be even potentially, possibly, explained as a dying frog. Wirt jumped, the fear in his chest becoming a storm, every reflex in his mind on top alert. His thoughts whirled, why Wirt was worried about a frog he couldn’t tell you… but the way the shadows seemed to darken around the room, the way they seemed to curl around his legs, the way they seemed to become claws and snag at him. The way the shadows seemed to taunt and mock Wirt. The way they stared down at his frozen form. It was familiar. Suddenly the warm little boy in his arms chilled to ice, cold as the bottom of the river on an icy autumn eve. “…. Kitty…?” His voice wavered as the child attempted to cover his ears, little chest pounding. Wirt felt more broken than he imagined he could at his brother's horrified voice. Greg had never shown fear like this before.
The Child attempted to get up from the couch, but Wirt held him in place, praying to anyone that was listening that Greg didn’t feel his arms shaking. . “He’s just singing, Greg” The teen almost started from how smooth and calm his voice had managed to be, reflecting nothing of the terror in his chest. It was a lie, he knew it was a lie. Greg knew it was a life. But Wirt had almost let Greg out there. Whatever was out there almost got Greg instead. That BEAST ‘I am never letting him out of my sight again’ His chest felt heavy, a weight like water tugging at his insides. Something like the feeling of failure. A mistake he couldn’t quite remember. Greg pulled against him, Not listening to Wirt’s statement, regardless of how surprisingly calm the brunette had managed to be. Children didn’t care for those things. They cared about the unholy noises just outside the wooden door. Wirt held Greg tighter, tighter than he was aware he could without hurting the damp 8 year old in his grip.
“…. What was your plan, brother O’ mine?” Greg’s voice, usually full of excitement, wavered, a dry chuckle added in for good measure. That tone in the teapot clad child’s voice tugged at Wirt’s soul, causing him to falter. Plan.. Plan.. he needed a plan, he had to protect Greg, he was the older brother, it was his job. Wirt’s broken, chilled, soul felt like it was on the verge of breaking more. He couldn’t do anything to stop what was out there. He could feel the shadows getting sharper, almost suffocating as they started to approach him. The clothes on Wirts form clung to his skin like they'd been dipped in an icy pool. The darkness licked his skin as his heart beat faster. Plan, PLAN, PLAN- Fortunately for Wirt, he was not forced to come up with any answer of any kind..
The door the Woodsman had previously exited through was thrown open, a panic stricken look on the old man’s face as he heaved, looking at the boys nestled on the couch. “WHAT'S HAPPENING!? ARE YOU BOYS ALRIGHT!?” He cried, dark eyes darting this way and that. The Woodsman’s knuckles were deathly white around the axe in his hand, his grip almost shaking from the tight hold he had on the wooden handle. Wirt was surprised the handle didn’t crack from the pressure all together, the wood didn’t seem all that string, and that grip could probably kill a man. The Woodsman moved too the boys, looking over them and letting out a breath only after seeing they were fine, if not a bit shaken up. Although the sound had begun to quiet, the shadows had only grown around the room, the cabin seeming only lit softly by the red glow from the flames.
Yet where the cries had died away, they'd been replaced by a deep feral growling that sunk into Wirts mind like death itself. It got closer, heavy… “W-were, fine… Woodsman? What's out there? Is it… The beast?” His voice betrayed him, finally wavering as the brunette teen spoke. The child in his lap shifted to look at The Woodsman, uncharacteristically quiet. Greg began to speak but was interrupted by a loud crash outside, causing everyone to flinch. Wirt found himself instinctively curling around Greg, shielding him from not just the danger out there, but the one in here, the one all around them. The predatory darkness.
The Woodsman whipped his head around, holding his axe at the ready incase of an attack. The old man sent a worried glance at the door before moving from his place next to the couch, carefully approaching the door with concern dripping from his eyes. Wirt slowly began to recoil but never fully let go, keeping Greg firmly in place as the child sobbed, and trembled. This day could not possibly get worse….. “Stay where you are, Children! I will go see-“ and then the thing outside came inside regardless of any plan the Woodsman may have had or what his intention was with his statement. Too late now, a giant goopy demon dog had kicked the door down. Wirt screamed, the water feeling in his lungs making him want to throw up as the teen lurched forward, body once again covering the younger child like a shield from the wooden door debris. The Woodsman stay’d still on the floor, body covered by a piece of the door… red leaked and… Wirt looked away. His body felt heavier.
The huge dark dog stared down the trio, multicolored eyes pulsing down at them as it growled. It entered through the shattered doorway, seeming to slither menacingly down the damp wooden tiles of the floor directly towards where Wirt was sitting, cradling his brother. The sharp shadows encasing the room sank from the walls, moving toward the beast. They filtered into its being, making it seem to grow, getting bigger as it consumed all in its path. The Woodsman began to stir, drawing Wirts eyes. The man moved faster than anyone of his age was expected to be capable of, quickly jumping in front of the creature's gaze, swinging his blade at it with a cry. “Get BACK!” He barked at the creature, eyes burning with something only explainable as hate. The Woodsman stood firmly in the way of the demonic dog and its path to the children inhabiting the cabin. Wirt couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. “This is not the Beast, boys” The Woodman spat, swinging the axe at the dog again, this time causing it to screech in alarm. His voice dripped with pain. It was out of breath and tired. The old man's clothes were still littered with red. The dog lunged again, swinging at The Woodsman as he dodged the attack. Wirt could barely process any of it. Dog’s weren’t supposed to look like that. This didn’t happen. This wasn’t real it wasn’t-
“Wirt? WIRT!” Greg's voice broke through the panic, causing Wirt to snap out of the spiral. Small, damp hands held Wirts own, small damp eyes, blue boring into his brown. More fear settled inside them than any child should ever have to experience. Wirt felt hollow as his eyes bored into Greg’s. That anxiety of his met with unexplainable horror. Those round, plate-like eyes had never held such horror before. Sure Wirt had seen some things in his 16 years of life, but Greg? He was so small, He wasn’t supposed to… He wasn’t… The room was a disaster, things shattered, walls splintering, The Woodsman holding his side as he cringed in pain, still facing off against the monster, the creature. Wirt felt stuck in place, chained to the couch. “…I’m going to die” A dark, corrupted paw slashed in Wirt's direction.
“RUN RUN RUN RUN!” Greg screamed, moving like a startled prey animal as he clenched his small hands around Wirts tighter, leaping from the couch and into a sprint. Just like that, he was moving. WIthout Greg’s swift reaction…. Wirt cut the thought from his mind. No longer a deer in the headlights but a mouse running from a cat. Still in danger, no time for bad thoughts.. Wirt heaved for breath, mind still spinning. The not-dog growled, he could almost feel its breath down his neck, the shadows seeping into his mind.
And so, Wirt ran. He didn’t let Greg lead for long, soon scooping up his brother into his arms and to the shattered door frame. The elder boy made the mistake of turning to check on The Woodsman. He should have just kept running. “LOOK OUT, BOYS!” The Woodsman’s tormented voice exclaimed before falling with a thud to the wooden floor. The dark creature turned its gaze to the two others inside the Mil. Once again Wirt found himself a deer in the headlights, sinking to the bottom of the sea, drowning. The Beast was upon him.
The dark figure shot forward at the half-brothers, giving Wirt only a moment to brace before pushing Greg out the door with a strained “GET OUT OF HERE” before dark claws sank into his back. For once in Greg’s life, he listened, and he ran. Dark pain twisted into Wirt, it burned and popped and screamed through his skin. The creature's weight held him down, making escape nigh impossible for the small 16 year old. The shadows that had seeped into the dog previously now leaked from its claws and into Wirts back. It sunk into his organs as a metallic sob arose from Wirt’s throat.
The World around Wirt started to fuzz into black as the claws sunk deeper. The sound around his gurgled, unintelligible. There was nothing in this world but dark, seering, claws. And cold, sharp, shadows infecting Wirt’s mind. There was no thought, no here or there. There was just pressure. And oh how it burned. How it gnashed into his heart, his soul. The breathing against his neck felt like the heat of hell as it beat against him. It surged, bubbling inside his body like a twisted poison, It corroded his organs, and his lungs, and his soul. Those claws ranked against his back, dragging down his skin as it tugged. A scream escaped from his lungs as something inside was punctured. He could feel it. Bodily fluids seeping out from their much needed place inside his form. Something needed inside him stopped, It screamed in his body, then died. His chest collapsed, his ribs breaking from the pressure.
Wirt wasn’t sure where the pain ended and he started. It drowned him, every time in his body giving up as they were left in the wake of the creature's powerful movement. Then suddenly just as intensely as it had started, the heat was gone. Instead it was frozen, cold. The feeling of water choked at Wirt’s lungs. SOmething was screaming, tugging at him. Stars it hurt just to be touched, the frozen agony filling his body in replacement for the beating heat. The world fizzled and popped as Wirt felt it slipping away. The darkness beat stronger in his body than his heart did. “I’m going to die ” Wirt found himself whispering softly and then he did… At least Wirt had thought so. The flowing darkness over taking his mind felt an awful lot like how the teen imagined death to be.