The Poet and the Thief

Ch.1 And so he ran

(!!!!!AGAIN ALL CREIDS GO TO KingOfTheOranges ON Ao3 NONE OF THIS BELONGS TO ME! ANY ENJOY!!!!!)

If there was one rule the village had to choose to enforce? It would be to never enter the forest. Rumors had spiraled for decades, claiming of magical beings from trolls to centaurs to the most believed, Fae. The dreaded Fae that stole children, that replaced townsfolk with changelings, that trapped you with their word play and strict rules. Children were raised with stories of fear, guards were dressed in iron, and absolutely no rings made of flowers or mushrooms. The problem?

The village was surrounded by the forest.

The only way out of the village was the ocean that connected to the thinnest area of the forest, but even the most brave members of the village still went in teams when it was necessary. They had survived this long by following this one rule. Sure some people called it a bluff and dared to enter anyway, but those people were never heard from again. Despite all the fear and the stories there was one young boy that still dared to go near. Young Tommy, the resident youngling with no one to claim as family, was always seen getting nearer and nearer to the edge of the trees. At first the other village members tried scolding him, teaching him, warning him; but nothing worked. It was almost like the forest called to the boy, begging Tommy to come and explore its wonders.

It took a few years but the villagers eventually gave up on Tommy, letting him do what he wanted to the forest. They did care when he started to steal, from stalls or people it didn't matter. Every time Tommy was punished, chased away, yelled at. The golden haired boy always pushed his limits, but it was in the name of survival! He needed the food, the warmth, anything to stay alive in a world that abandoned him. Sometimes however? Even he would admit he could push too far. This just happened to be one of those moments of clarity, as the baker chased him with a rolling pin in hand, yelling at the child to return the basket of bread at once. Tommy of course didn't listen, running for what he thought was his life straight into the forest. He barely recognized that it was now grass under his bare feet instead of cobble, that the yelling was long gone and instead replaced by birds chirping. He didn't dare stop until he hit a small clearing, tripping over himself onto the damp ground. The basket of bread tipped over in the process, one piece coming to a stop just outside a ring of toadstools. The young boy merely tried to calm his breath as he scooped the bread back into the basket, only just realizing his new predicament. He may have escaped one danger but now he was in for a whole new round of what was meant to be torment. It didn't seem all that bad to him though, dare he even claim it was nice? It was peaceful, quiet and simple and so very unlike the busy village behind him. Small hands reached for the last piece of bread but hesitated just over the top. The ring of toadstools were very obvious, especially when as close as he was. The bread hadn't fully gone over the line, hell some would claim it had barely touched the ring at all! But the boy knew the stories of Faerie rings.

"Do I...?" His voice was merely a whisper but it still seemed to carry in the empty area. With a deep breath he swiped the bread away, throwing it into the tree line for safety. Now neither of them had it, that was alright right? A sigh of relief left Tommy as he stood, turning to leave and enjoy the small meal he'd acquired himself. At least he was going too, but that was when he heard what he could only assume was someone clearing their throat behind him; only it was far too clear with almost a humming tone behind it. It was odd, but not unpleasant. Tommy being the gremlin he was simply spun around, showing none of the fear he should have been feeling. There in front of him was a rather tall man. Everything about him seemed too perfect immediately, from his skin, to his hair, to his stance. The only imperfection Tommy could pick out was the large smattering of freckles on the man's face and shoulders, which were evenly spaced and placed. It was like someone's sculpture had come to life, but with very clearly bad intentions.