#handheld tiny

Gritting his teeth, Garrick tore his eyes away from the slitted eyes of the splasher and tugged his hook free from the zipper securing him to the human. The uneven steps threatened to throw him off balance, but he was as sure footed as they came and spun on his heel, foot grinding into the coarse fabric of the pack and jumped. 

Launched forward and to the side, he threw his hook and tugged it taut as it caught the brim of the hat. Suspended in mid-air only for a moment, Garrick glanced over his shoulder and glimpsed the vacant features of the human currently ensnared by the creature. The Borrower’s heart seized as he passed directly in front of the human’s face, knowing full well he was in their direct line of sight; at least, he would be if they weren’t completely at the mercy of the creature luring them into the water. 

Not now! Just swipe and jump. Get away. Drop in the water once the eyes are clear. 

Garrick saw the odd yellow-green cloud over the human’s eyes and knew this was his one shot. Just as he swung back from the momentum of his leap forward, his feet planted on the human’s cheek while the rest of his body lunged forward on the line. Garrick swiped wildly as his heart pounded continuously like a war drum warning him away from his current circumstance. 

Missed. 

The leaves barely left a draft on the human’s forehead. 

Come on! 

Garrick could see the human was up to their waist now. Dark tendrils were starting to snake down by their ankles. He was nearly out of time. He threw himself backward and forward again. With his momentum, he lunged forward once more, practically throwing himself toward the human’s face. 

This time, he snagged a handful of the human’s hair, which lined their face in short cut bangs, and grasped the bridge of their nose between his knees, rope tucked under his armpit. Leaves tight in his hand, he pressed his full weight into the leaves and dragged it across the human’s forehead. The smear of blood and oil from the mint leaf created an uneven arc as Garrick’s arm swiped across his body. 

Time slowed for that brief moment. Garrick looked over the top of his leg as he remained perched awkwardly on the human’s nose at the human’s enormous eye. The glaze cleared, the yellow-green fading like the colors of dawn from the early morning, and was followed by one slow blink and then several rapid ones. The brow Garrick was currently stabilized on furrowed and the nose scrunched, nearly bucking him off of the appendage. 

A guttural sucking sound raised the hair on Garrick’s neck as an audible splash disturbed the water behind him. The tendrils retracted, the creature retreating into the murky depths, leaving defeated and hungry as it rightfully should. Garrick exhaled audibly, tension in his shoulders releasing, and reached backward into his pack to pull out some cattail fluff just for good measure when the consequences of his actions literally stared him in the face. There was little doubt that the human was no longer under the spell of the splasher, and that put him in a precarious position as he was literally perched on the human’s nose. 

Eyes blown wide open and crossed to stare directly at him, Garrick imagined he and the human shared the same expression - mouths agape and rigidity returning to their bodies as each stared into the others’ eyes to the best of their abilities. All thought vaporized. Instinct abandoned him as the Borrower felt entranced by immense blue-green eyes. 

He’d encountered many beasts and creatures, but only in this moment did Garrick fully realize the gravity of what he’d done. 

“Wha-.... UGH!” The human flinched and began backing out of the water, threatening to knock Garrick loose. 

Shoot! Move, you idiot! 

Garrick’s muscles pulled taut like that of a bow as he fumbled the rope and threw himself backward, pushing off of the human’s cheeks by the base of their nose. Recognition dawned on the human’s features as Garrick was now sure he was in clear, unblurred view. His legs snaked around the line and he began to slide down. Each motion was planned and calculated. Sliding down the rope. Flipping into the water. Diving down into the murk so the human couldn’t find him. Making his way through the cattails and vanishing into the forest as the human scoured the ground for him. 

He made it three inches down the line as the momentum carried him back away from the human’s face only to crash into an outstretched hand. 

The fingers crested into his peripheral vision. His spine collided and fit into the crevasse of the human’s palm. No sound escaped. Not even a gasp of surprise eeked out of him. It all happened too fast. Like the snap of a mousetrap, the fingers closed around Garrick’s body, instantly restraining him. Arms pinned to his front as he continued to cling to the rope and face currently smashed by the pad of a finger, the Borrower realized in that lightning fast moment that he’d been caught by the one thing he was actually terrified of out here. 

The only thing free was his feet, which he attempted to maneuver into kicking the base of the human’s palm. He only managed to struggle feebly while the hand that contained him whirled around, churning his stomach worse than a free fall from a tall branch in a tree. The sound of the human wading through the water was the least of his concerns, but try as he might, Garrick couldn’t wiggle free. The sploosh of the water turned into sopping steps, the squelch of the moist banks giving way under the human’s feet. His heart beat fervently as he steeled himself. 

Calm down. 

Breathe. 

It felt impossible with the pad of the human’s finger nearly smothering him. The heat of the hand around him was sweltering. The unfair size of the human appendage flexed imperceptibly for a human, but sent Garrick’s mind reeling. 

Oh F-! They’re going to crush me! This is it. I knew better. I knew better and I did it anyway. What was I thinking?! 

The hand relaxed as the human jostled around. Garrick couldn’t even begin to guess what was going on in the human’s mind as he was held aloft. 

Calm down. You need to get out of here. You can do this. It’s just a human… just… a human. I’ve faced scarier. I’ve seen worse! But… have I? No. Don’t think about that right now. I can get out of this. I just have to clear my mind. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on getting away, whatever it takes. 

His mantra flooded his thoughts. 

What is mine stays with me. What is not, passes by me. Hear the truth, not the echo. If the forest calls, I do not answer. If the forest calls, I do not answer. Listen to the wind, not the whispers.

His struggles calmed. Garrick forced muffled breath after muffled breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The moment he could see, he’d be able to make a better plan. Until then, resistance and effort was futile. He relaxed, body practically falling limp as he embraced the unknown. 

The Borrower didn’t fight or dare move as the fingers flexed again, the sounds of the squelching now becoming more subtle. Garrick resisted the urge to flinch as he felt something prod at his exposed feet. He didn’t even fight as the rope in his hands was tugged free as he remained constricted within those fleshy columns that dwarfed him. 

You’ve been seen. You’re caught. Might as well go for the trifecta, especially if it gets me out of this. 

There was an immense jostling followed by something that sounded like a nervous exhalation. 

That’s the sound of bracing if I’ve ever heard one. Garrick calmed his breathing and steeled himself, taking his own breath to brace what was about to happen. 

The top three fingers eased their grasp on his body, keeping his legs locked in place, unfurling like a morning glory, timid and slow. Based on his position, he knew he had been laid on his back or in somewhat of a horizontal position. The mix of cold shadow and bright light told him they were in a shaded area, but they hadn’t gone far from the edge of the water. The Borrower had mere moments to acclimate to his new surroundings now that he’d been carried to someplace new. Eyes squinted shut. One breath. 

Open.

Garrick opened his eyes, jaw stiffened, as his vision was nearly consumed by the features of the human. It took all his willpower to tear his eyes away from those blue-green eyes that could’ve held him in place with a glance. Eyes darting away, Garrick felt a spark of ease. He recognized the canopy of trees and the scent that lingered of moss and stagnant water. There were some hollows nearby he’d used to hide in seasons passed which he could use again if he could make it to the ground. 

The movement of the human’s other hand caught his attention. Much like how a cat would pick up the slightest movement from a flittering bird or stealthed mouse, the Borrower’s innate apprehension to human hands locked onto the human’s free hand lifting up by his midsection before freezing and quickly retracting to cover her mouth. 

Her. She… oh great. 

Garrick could see it clearly now that the hat was off of her head. The cut of the hair. The softer features no longer consumed with vacancy inflicted by some creature. The subtle bumps across her chest no longer hidden beneath the backpack straps. He’d been warned all his life about humans, young boys to be precise, but he’d always thought that girls, specifically young adult women, were far more dangerous. They were prone to sensitivities and maternal instincts; and that went for his kind as well as humans. 

Now knowing he was in the clutches of one gave the Borrower no comfort. 

Her mouth began moving, and immediately Garrick felt himself bristling.

“Hey… hey there… little guy.” The woman’s voice admittedly was soft and not shattering his eardrums, but in that curious, cooing tone. The initial panic nearly vaporized entirely while Garrick stared into the woman’s features and was replaced with mild annoyance. 

Why is she talking to me like a child? I’m pretty sure I’m older than her. 

His exhale came out in an irritated puff and, as weird as the sensation was to place his hands onto hers, he pushed himself upright now that it was only his legs being restrained. Looking up into her features, Garrick felt his fear subsiding. The thought of all the creatures and monsters he’d faced being ten times more intimidating than this woman crossed his mind, and he realized his terror came not from the human, but the simple fact that humans didn’t follow the same rules as the monsters he’d studied for most of his life. 

Garrick knew how to fight, ward, and avoid everything in these woods except for humans, hence their power over him. 

Calm down. Why’re you freaking out? I’ve faced worse, and they couldn’t understand me. This one can. I can’t talk to the others. If she’s smart, she’ll listen and that’ll be that. Worst case… well… I doubt she’s got anything in that bag that can keep me contained for long. 

I can do this. 

“What… no…. W-who… are you?” she asked cautiously. Her hand flexed slightly while lifting him up to be more eye-level with her. 

Garrick, taking the gamble of a lifetime, met her gaze with determined defiance as he wriggled and failed to pull his legs free from her encompassing grip. 

“Someone who just saved your enormous hide. Now, would you mind letting me go? I’m not a stress ball, doll, toy, or pet and I don’t like being coddled like one.” He hoped the human wouldn’t lash out, but recognized that he was still in a precarious situation. That said, he was never one to sugar coat anything and wasn’t about to rearrange who he was just because he was in a pinch. If something bad was going to happen, he was going out as himself. 

He’d made that decision a long time ago. 

He instantly picked up on the surprise and mild offence in the woman’s expression as she looked at him incredulously. Her jaw slackened, fingers loosened ever so slightly but didn’t relinquish their grip on his legs. To emphasize his point, Garrick tugged at his legs again in a vain attempt to free himself. 

“I… excuse me?” she asked. 

“You heard me. Let. Me. Go. I’ll even say please as a courtesy. You humans like that sort of thing.” Garrick’s heart would’ve given away his nervousness if this human could see the way it was pounding faster and faster like some kind of fleeing animal. He was barely able to keep his voice forceful and level. The human, to his dismay, ignored his demand as her eyes inventoried his body, examining him as if to memorize every detail. 

“You… talk,” she breathed. “And you’re so… human.” 

Garrick rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it looks like that to you, now will you please…”

“How’d you get out here?” she interrupted. Garrick thought for a moment that she might be in some kind of trance still, but she wasn’t exhibiting any other symptoms - meaning this was just a human being a human. Frustrated, Garrick reached up and began rubbing his temples, mouth open to speak, when the girl shook her head as if to shake away a thought, looked around the forest where she’d leaned against a nearby tree, and she continued. “I… uh… sorry. Wait. Why… why were you on my face? And why was I in the water? Did… did you do that?” 

Garrick let the silence sit while looking up into her curious features, hands still pressed against his temples, as he asked. “Oh, you’re talking to me now? Listening to what I have to say?”

“Okay, okay. No need to get snarky. I…” the woman began to retort. 

“Really? That’s a relief,” scoffed Garrick, interrupting her. “If you’re listening to me, then have the decency to honor my request and let… me… go.” 

The woman’s jaw clenched defiantly, and Garrick swore he felt her fingers tighten around his legs. Still, he held firm and didn’t dare to break his gaze away. Silence embracing them as each stared down the other, it was the woman who broke first. 

“How do I know you’re not just going to run off?” she asked skeptically. 

“You don’t, and it is not up to you whether I stay or go,” stated Garrick. 

She stared at the little man in her hand, who couldn’t’ve been taller than four or so inches, and considered her options. 

She remembered the woods, but not the ones that were around her. She remembered walking with the others through the trees when she broke line of sight with them, hearing something. Something distant? Something close? A doorway? A set of stairs? 

The whole thing was a blur. 

The only thing she really remembered clearly was this tiny man perched on the bridge of her nose before slipping off and falling. She’d caught him and found herself in water. Now he seemed annoyed and not the least bit grateful. 

Who was he? 

Where did he come from? 

Now thinking about the paths before her, she had a decision to make. 

This little guy could maybe handle himself; but also how could he? He was so small. It was too dangerous to have him running around, and she had an empty section in her bag where he could cool off and be safe. 

She could also guarantee this little guy wouldn’t run away. She wanted - needed - answers. Even if he was a snarky, sarcastic thorn, he seemed to be aware and knowledgeable. She had some string and could easily slip it around his ankles or midsection. She had him pinned, and what could he really do? He certainly didn’t seem trustworthy and was obviously eager to flee. 

Or she could listen to him and hope beyond hope that he didn’t vanish into the forest and that he actually stayed not only to answer her questions, but also to help. She was out here for a reason, and she wasn’t leaving - couldn’t leave - without finding the answers. 

| ~ What should she do? ~ |

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Continue

Previous

The dog. 

The kid’s pocket. 

No place to hide. 

What happened to Jasper… 

Maerin didn’t regret his decision to speak to the child, but still felt himself stunned at how quickly he’d abandoned one of the proclaimed critical Borrower rules. It was for good reason; at least, that’s what Maerin kept telling himself. Pushed up onto one elbow and then completely upright, the miniscule man tiptoed along the edge of the bed. He was beginning to investigate the bedsheets to see if any of them reached the floor from where he was when his feet shifted with the sudden jostle of the bed. 

Maerin crouched to stabilize, head whipping around to see the fluttering of those piercing blue eyes open, morning blur tangled in with the kid’s lashes. His jaw set firmly as he made the snap decision to stay. There was no sense in making a dash for the edge of the bed, even though his instincts commanded it of him. If he tried slipping down the edge of the bed next to the wall and the mattress shifted, he could be crushed. If Jasper stretched while Maerin ran toward the foot of the bed, he could be swept off by the kid’s leg that was just under the sheet. 

Staying was the only thing that made sense, so Maerin turned, despite his limbs attempting to override him, and faced Jasper as the human child stirred awake. 

Sure enough, there was a massive shuffle from under the comforter, meaning Maerin would’ve ended up on the floor. The bed jostled again, shifting the mattress. Again, Maerin imagined himself being crushed by the wall of fabric and springs against the wall. He was glad he didn’t have to find out if he would walk away with a sprain, a break, cracked head, or not at all. 

Jasper’s eyes fluttered open, blinking away the blur, before squinted with a groggy morning smile. He stifled a morning yawn, making Maerin fight one off for himself, as Jasper focused on the Borrower man. 

“Good morning,” he said quietly. There was a hint of morning breath as the kid spoke before confusion filled his eyes with a hint of something else. Worry? “Did… oh… I’m sorry. Did you need something?” Jasper leaned up from the pillow, but Maerin shook his head. “No? Then… did…” Jasper hesitated, but continued. “Did you fall asleep up here?” 

Maerin felt his throat tighten, knowing what Jasper had endured the previous night, and hoped Jasper wouldn’t be upset with him. “I… it was an accident. I didn’t mean to. It… just happened. I’m sorry.” 

Jasper’s confusion was replaced by a subtle amusement, nodding and saying, “No, I get it. It’s okay. I’m glad. I mean… not glad since it looks like you feel bad about it… which! You shouldn’t… but… glad you weren’t afraid to, if that makes any sense.” 

Maerin nodded. A smile creeped onto his lips as he watched the kid fumbling his words. It was a gentle reminder that this was all new to the kid too and that they were figuring everything out together. 

“So… you slept okay?” asked Jasper. Again, Maerin nodded. 

“Better than I have for a while,” he stated. “Did… you sleep well?” asked Maerin, obligation and decency dictating he return the question. 

“Yeah, same,” Jasper echoed before a curious spark lit his eyes. “You… you’re not some kind of fairy, are you? Able to do magic and stuff to put me to sleep, right?” 

He’d heard of the term before. He’d even seen pictures in books and painted on walls of small folk, like himself, with wings in the rooms of children. Maerin couldn’t suppress his mild amusement, a soft chuckle reverberating somewhere in his chest as he stood and shook his head. “No, I’m not some kind of fairy.” 

Jasper let out a soft “oh” before glancing back at the door and then back to Maerin. 

“So… this is going to sound dumb, but… do you have to do thing that a human does? Like eat and… like… go to the bathroom and stuff?” Jasper spoke with an involuntary wince, like he understood the awkwardness of what he was saying but was overridden by his own curiosity. It was such a kid thing to ask that Maerin found himself chuckling again as he nodded. 

“Yes,” he replied after a moment of processing. 

“Oh… okay. Well, I’m gonna go, so…” Jasper slid out of bed with an unchild-like caution before offering his hand. “They won’t be up yet. And I promise I won’t let them see you if they are.” 

It was a thoughtful gesture, demonstrating Jasper’s thoroughness and care. Maerin, figuring his opportunities might be limited, went with the child, timidly stepping onto those same outstretched fingers he’d shied away from only a day ago. 

How quickly things change. How quickly circumstance makes strange allies. 

Maerin had to give Jasper credit. The kid was as quick and as quiet as any Borrower he’d known. Quick reflexes. Cautious. Alert. His feet hardly made a whisper of a step as he darted from his room to the bathroom and then back again. Once back in the room, safe and secured, Jasper set Maerin on the ground near the dresser. 

“Do you want anything special for breakfast? I can do… um… do you like eggs? Or toast? We might have some granola or those toaster things that are sweet,” asked Jasper. 

“You mean Pop Tarts?” asked Maerin. 

Jasper shook his head. “No. Tay… er… mom doesn’t get those, but I like those better.” 

“I see,” replied Maerin. “Then no. Don’t… go to any trouble. Not for me. Please.” If I’m going to ask for a favor, it’s going to be getting back to my family, not over something simple like breakfast. 

“Sure, but it’s no trouble,” smiled Jasper. “Okay, I’ll be back.” Jasper stood at his dizzying height, even for a human child, and quickly slipped out of the room, noiselessly moving away and through the house. 

Maerin, alone once again, retreated to his place under the dresser, back pressed against the wood as he thought about how he was going to go about his request. 

I’m alone. 

I can’t get out of here by myself. 

There aren’t enough supplies. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where I’m going. 

If I’m going to make it back to my girls, I have to rely on some help. 

Jasper is the only one. 

That means I need to let the kid help me. He’s done a lot already. I… I can’t have him getting in trouble again. 

A dangerous thought came to his mind, which banished any hunger he might’ve had. 

What if he can’t help me? 

Not that he won’t… can’t. 

The impossibility of returning to the woods crashed over him like a burst pipe in winter. It was a cold tingling that started at the back of his neck that suddenly poured over him. Minutes passed. The unsettling question of what to do gripped the Borrower, ensnaring him slowly. It was a horrid sensation, being completely dependent on another when he was perfectly capable of doing so many other things. A vague memory crept from some place he thought he forgot of being a teenager and having the same thoughts. He remembered his father’s words and clung to them as they echoed in his mind. 

“Don’t get bogged down with what you can’t do. Focus on what you can do.”

“Sage advice, dad. Not going to get me to my girls, but I’ll be ready when it happens.” 

There was a soft tapping on the door just before Jasper slipped into the room, though Maerin didn’t need to see him to know it was the kid. Between the tapping and his feather soft footsteps, it was clear this could be no one else. Maerin pushed himself up off of his makeshift bed, shadows lengthening as Jasper’s body eclipsed the light, while watching Jasper make himself comfortable on the floor, legs crossed as he looked hopefully down at the gap for Maerin. 

The Borrower fought the urge to shy away as he saw Jasper’s eyes brighten upon seeing him. There was a transparent container in one hand that Maerin guessed came up to his knee and a plate in the other. Jasper set the container down in front of him and scooched back as he put down his own plate. From what Maerin could tell, his own portion mirrored everything on Jasper’s plate, but in smaller portions. Still, it was a lot. The kid leaned over and pointed to the unfinishable feast he’d brought for the Borrower man. 

“So, I have a couple options. I got a granola bar, chocolate chip, so you can just eat it whenever,” Jasper said, pointing to the next item. “I made some eggs in the microwave and put some cheese on it. I… hope that’s okay. Then this is toast, but you probably knew that, and then this is the sweet toaster thing. We only had blueberry flavor, but it’s still pretty good.

“Oh, and I have some orange juice and some foil and a spoon straw. They don’t all go together. Well… kinda. I figured you might need something to eat with so I brought these. Um… I hope that’s not… weird or anything.” Jasper pulled out the items from his pocket and set them in the container before turning his attention to his own plate. 

Maerin, stunned, glanced from the container to the kid. “You… didn’t have to…”

“Oh no, it w… oh… sorry…” Jasper interrupted, shying away immediately, eyes averted as if Maerin would scold him. 

“No. I mean…” Maerin was at a loss for words, but the simplest ones, he figured, would be the best. “Thank you, and I hope you didn’t go to extra effort on my behalf.” 

Jasper’s shoulders visibly loosened, eyes brightened, as he shook his head. “No, it wasn’t trouble. I was going to make all this stuff for myself anyway. I hope you like it.” 

With an eager grin, Jasper snagged the fork off of his own plate and started munching away, leaving Maerin to begin his own portion. Some ways made it feel familiar, making his own utensils and eating an eclectic collection of collected foods, both processed and fresh. He had to admit that Jasper knew how to cook. Maybe it was the fact the ingredients were fresh, but he ensured to complement the kid to demonstrate his gratitude. Each time, Jasper blushed and looked away, humbly accepting the complement. 

They finished in relative silence, the two of them offering small talk about the different food items, but none of those things were what Maerin wanted to discuss. He needed to get back to the forest, and Jasper was the only one to get him there. The burning question was making him squirm. The anticipation was getting to him. 

“Um… so… Jasper,” began Maerin, tone tentative but borderline eager. “I wanted to ask you if… you think you’d be able to ask about going to the park today?” 

Jasper, still chewing, nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or just his imagination, but Jasper looked timid to Maerin. For good reason based on what happened to him last night. 

“Y-yean I can ask, but it is a bit of a drive. I don’t know if they’ll say yes,” he said quietly. “Have you made foil utensils before? The one you made looks really good.”  

It made Maerin’s unease triple hearing uncertainty come out of the child’s mouth, but there was more to it than that. Something about how quickly Jasper changed the topic felt off. There were a lot of reasons why Jasper would jump topics. He was a kid. Kids were curious, especially human kids. They’d shared a quiet meal together and were talking, something that still made Maerin nervous. 

He didn’t want to consider the alternative - that Jasper had changed his mind. 

He elected to be polite and answer Jasper’s questions while pressing him - gently though. 

“Yes, I have. I mean, I do. It’s the main material used for kitchen and food supplies,” replied Maerin. 

“That’s pretty cool. So, like, where do you get that kind of stuff? I mean, if you’re out in the woods and everything. Do you just have to reuse the same pieces over and over again? Or do you go out where they have grills and wait for, like, parties to come by and throw away what they don’t use? Bring it back to where you live when you’re done collecting and stuff?” 

“Just… kitchens. I don’t actually live outside,” Maerin corrected gently. 

“Oh?” 

Too curious. It’s getting closer now. Shoot. Where’s he going with this? Is he going somewhere with this? Or is he just asking questions? He’s not… being crafty, is he? 

“N-no. I don’t live outside. I live in houses. I had a home.”

“Had? You don’t have it anymore?” 

Shoot! 

“No, which is why I was outside by the park, which is why I need to go back,” insisted Maerin. 

“But… why?” 

There it is. I knew it. He’s… he’s reconsidering. He figured out I can talk and now he has his own pocket friend. 

“Because I need to, that’s why,” stated Maerin. 

“But if what you need is in a house, why not stay in a house?” Jasper’s questions were persistent and making the Borrower sweat. It wouldn’t make much difference, but Maerin didn’t care. He stood tall and firm while meeting those pale blue eyes. 

“No, Jasper. I need to go back to the woods,” Maerin insisted. 

“But… I mean, it’s dangerous out there, right? You got eaten by Pepper and you just said you live in houses. I don’t know. Why do you want to go back out there? Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” 

Maerin wasn’t sure at what point he started walking backwards toward the opening at the bottom of the dresser, but Jasper’s face fell and silenced himself instantly, lips pinching together into a thin line like he was attempting to zipper his lips shut. Maerin’s back pressed against the wood, ready to dart away at a moment’s notice. Each thump of his heart made the human child’s voice sound further away. 

Jasper, seeing Maerin’s apprehension, shrank back into himself and backed away, scooting across the floor until his back hit his bedside table. “I… oh no… I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t… I just… oh, I asked the wrong things. It’s… it’s me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jasper whimpered. His fingers laced and pressed against his lips. It was endearing in a way, and for some reason helped ease Maerin’s tension, though still wary about Jasper’s intentions. 

I don’t know if he’s getting ideas or anything crazy like that, but I do know he’s done everything to help me. Kids don’t always know what they’re saying or how it sounds. Seems like he just got how unsettling this is for me. I shoudln’t… no. I have to give him something. If he knows, maybe… maybe he’ll understand. He might already, but it might give him a sense of urgency. 

“Jasper, it’s okay. I,” Maerin clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm, as the gravity of what he was about to say weighed on him. “It’s not you. Okay? I promise. I promise it’s not you. I’m asking - no, begging - you to take me back because… my family is out there.” 

Jasper’s eyes widened. His hands pulled away from his lips, but stayed clutched near his chest as he echoed the word, “Family?” 

Maerin nodded. “Yes, family. My family. They’re out there in those woods, and I need to get back to them. Please, Jasper. The longer we wait, the more likely they’ll be in danger and could get hurt, worse than what happened to me.” Maerin’s heart clenched, and his hand lifted to press against it to stifle the pain. “I have no right to ask you. You’ve already saved me four… no, five times? But… please. If not for me then for them.” 

The gears in the child’s mind were obviously processing everything he was just told. A silent struggle of wanting to do the right thing but also wanting to be selfish was apparent. Maerin could see the kid was lonely - that he needed someone, anyone - to get him through the struggles he was going through. His offering the night before obviously helped the kid, and they both knew it. 

Jasper’s features fell. Shoulders slumped. He chewed on his bottom lip as he looked away and then back to Maerin. His breathing suddenly became rapid. His little jaw locked. Was this anger? Frustration? Simply being upset? 

Without warning, Jasper pushed himself up onto his feet and headed for the door, feet shuffling as he shut the door with a harsher force than before. Maerin collapsed to his knees and, before he could change his mind, dragged the food material under the dresser in case the worst was coming for him. Every ounce of his brain tried to piece together what those expressions meant. What could it have been? Resentment? Or was it resolve?

He pressed his ears to the floorboards in the hopes of picking up some element of conversation, but it was a fool’s errand. There was no chance he was going to hear anything unless he snuck to the top of the stairs, and he wasn’t bold enough to risk being near that dog again if he could help it. The Borrower man could only sit with his churning gut while thinking about Jasper, the hope he clung desperately to a flame in a wind storm. The plea might’ve gone unheard, but maybe not. 

Minutes ticked passed like drying syrup on a lid. Quick to a point before hardening and dragging on little by little until completely still. 

*THUMP*

*THUMP*

*THUMP**THUMP**THUMP*

The rapid footsteps of light feet ascended the stairs as a few quick taps rattled the door. The door unlatched with a foreboding click as the Borrower man prepared himself for the worst, pleading with whoever could hear his trembling heart that he’d been right to trust the child. The two bare feet came into view. Then pajama pants and two little hands. Maerin held his breath. 

“They’ll do it.” 

Relief shattered his fear and Maerin found himself tempted out of the shadows toward the human child who, once again, had managed to do the impossible. 

“I mean… not right now. They said they’re busy right now and they’ll only take me if I write an apology and line about making the dog sick and for not wanting to play with my ‘little brother,’ but I’m used to those things, so we’re good,” said Jasper. He gave a shrug and snagged a notebook from between his mattresses, turning to a pre-written page of “I’m sorry for…” that was obviously in his youthful handwriting. 

“Jasper… I… I don’t know what to say,” Maerin stammered. The kid shrugged. There was no zealous gleam in his eyes that had shown his delight at making breakfast or finding Maerin asleep in the bed beside him. Hurt radiated off of the kid like heat, but he still seemed determined. Like he’d started this and now was prepared to see it through. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” mumbled Jasper. 

“No, I do. Jasper, I’m… I’m proud of you,” insisted Maerin. Jasper’s eyes glistened with tears in a heartbeat. “Really, thank you. I’m proud of you. That couldn’t’ve been an easy thing to do.” 

Jasper shook his head, as if it could stave off the emotions coursing through him, and sniffled. “It wasn’t really that hard.” 

“Well, I couldn’t imagine doing it, so it makes you braver than me,” Maerin complimented. 

Jasper, wet smile on his face, wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and said, “Well, if you’re going to be out there, you might need some weapons or something to keep you and your family safe.” 

That’s right. I don’t have anything. Just a couple supplies from the medicine box. I also need a real bath. I can still smell stomach acid on me and in my clothes. 

“You’re absolutely right,” commended Maerin, a thought occurring to him. “Do… you want to help me make some? I’ll show you the proper B…-er… way. The proper way. Yeah?” The spark that had nearly extinguished was in his eyes once more as Jasper pushed himself up onto his feet and was rummaging through his desk in the blink of an eye. Soon, every material a Borrower could ask for was at Maerin’s feet. 

Safety pins. 

Thumb tacks. 

Paper clips. 

String.

Sewing kit.

Double sided tape. 

Broken pencil sharpener. 

Tiny screw driver. 

Floss. 

Glue.

Superglue. 

“How’d you get all of this?” asked Maerin. 

“Borrowed it from the craft drawer downstairs.” Hearing the word made Maerin’s blood run cold. Stiff as a board, he looked up into Jasper’s features to see if it was meant as a hint that he knew what Maerin was called, but Jasper was too preoccupied with examining the other items, meaning it was pure coincidence. Tension releasing, he listened as Jasper continued. “I sneak a little by little so they don’t notice any is missing. Gives me a chance to do my arts and crafts and stuff.” 

“That’s… very clever,” Maerin breathed, heart still calming. 

“You think?” Jasper beamed. “Okay, what do you need to get started?” 

“Probably a bag,” Maerin said slowly. “Have any fabric?” 

“Ummm… yeah, I think I do. Hang on. If not, I have some old shirts and stuff I can cut up. I don’t wear them anyway.” 

Together, human and Borrower collaborated on creating a collection of tools and items that was impressive, even to a Borrower’s standards. Jasper’s small, nimble fingers worked swiftly and with surprising accuracy for a human on the finer details as Maerin had him hold, twist, and glue. He ensured to complement Jasper’s skills, which made the child beam. The traces of hurt from earlier were nearly gone, and that made Maerin happy. 

Then Jasper, after a moment, glanced back at his desk and then to the little man once more. “Well… if… if it’s okay and… if you really wanted to say thank you, you could… do something for me.” Maerin paused momentarily, skeptically eyeing the child before Jasper continued. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I was wondering… could I draw you?” 

“Draw me?” Maerin echoed. 

“Yeah, like I do with my figures and stuff.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. You’re really cool and I don’t want to forget you when you leave.” The answer was an innocent enough one. It was also heartbreaking to hear Jasper say it in such plain terms. How could he say no? After everything he’d done, how could Maerin refuse such an innocent and simple request. 

“Alright, but you’re not allowed to show it to anyone. If you do, you can’t tell them about me. You promise? 

“Yessir! I promise!” Jasper eagerly snagged his sketchbook and one of the pencils on his desk, turning to the first blank page, before beginning his work. Maerin, unsure of whether or not he should do anything, stayed still like a statue until Jasper pointed back to the supplies. “You don’t have to stop or anything.” 

“Right.” Maerin inhaled slowly, deliberately, before continuing his work. As he did, however, Jasper began to ask questions. 

“You said… family… earlier. What are they like? Is it okay if I ask you about them?” asked Jasper. 

It was a dangerous line of questioning, but also innocent enough. Kids were curious and it seemed like Jasper didn’t have a lot of friends at the moment. 

“I… yes, but I might not answer all of your questions,” Maerin said, that same tone Jasper imagined a father would take when issuing a warning. Jasper nodded obediently as his pencil danced across the page. “I… have a wife and three daughters. My youngest is probably around your age.”

“Do you think we’d get along?” 

“I… think maybe. She’s… very sweet… like you.” 

“Did you have friends where you were before?”

“No. It was just us in the house.” 

“What’s your favorite thing about your daughters?” 

“Everything.” 

This continued for what felt like no time at all when Jasper suddenly spun the paper around and showed an image that had Maerin’s jaw slacken. The likeness was uncanny, the details of the face and even the fraying threads of his shirt clearly visible in the sketch. He looked calm, kind, confident. Nothing like the pitiful mess that had survived being swallowed by a dog. 

“Um… could… could I ask you something else?” asked Jasper while Maerin marveled at the sketch. 

“Y-yeah… sure.”

“What’s your name? I mean… I don’t want to sound rude, but you have one, right?” 

Maerin hesitated. 

Had Jasper earned such a thing? 

Yes, without hesitation or doubt. 

Did it make him feel uneasy? 

Yes. 

But… it showed trust. It showed Maerin believed in Jasper. 

Then again… it had only been a day. 

Could he give so much of himself so quickly? Especially to a child? Even a trustworthy one?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

Beginning

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

The Button-Thread Bond will continue after a brief intermission. I hope you enjoy what is to come in the meantime.

He pressed his back against the tree, aligning the ridges and grooves of the bark with his spine, eyes closed and head bowed as if praying. In a way, he was. 

“Hear the truth, not the echo. If the forest calls, I do not answer.”

He kept his words barely above a breath. Talking to this thing - this creature - would be the end of him. Looking at it would only lure him in. Tempt him. Try to ensnare him. That wasn’t the real danger - it was talking to it. This one was different than the others. Not unique, but different. 

Garrick learned that a long time ago. 

You could talk to yourself to keep your sanity. You could talk to a friend if one was nearby to distract from the magnetic draw of this thing. Above all else and to keep yourself safe, you couldn’t speak directly to it. He’d seen too many get snarfed up in one bite, drawn by the darkness and call of loved ones long dead. 

So, he kept his eyes closed as the scrapes inched closer, this thing flexing its fingers as if attempting to pet the tree with just its fingertips, as the whispers began. 

Are you there? 

Can you hear me?

I’m lost.

I’m lost.

I’m llooossstttt. 

Breathy. 

Drawn out. 

Three tones three different times. 

Young. 

Old. 

Male.

Female. 

He’d heard all of these voices at one point or another in his life. 

Still, he continued to mumble to himself, head down and eyes closed. 

“If the forest calls, I do not answer. Listen to the wind, not the whispers.”

Garrick inhaled silently, eyes still shut, as the scent hit him. A gut churning scent of decay and deep earth that lingered in the air like morning smog. The repulsion built acid in the back of his throat. It was worse than before, meaning the thing was hungry. The worse the smell, the longer it had gone without feeding, the last meal actively rotting in its teeth unreplenished with fresh flesh and blood. The thing’s hot breath radiated from its throat as it lowered itself to Garrick’s level. In his mind, he could see its skeletal jaw scraping the forest floor as it inched toward him. 

Hhheeelllpppp… 

Pppplleeaasssee…

The curling whispers pleaded with him, but he started again with his phrases. It was the only thing he could do as he scraped his back against the bark of the tree. 

“What is mine stays with me. What is not, passes by me. Hear the truth, not the echo. If the forest calls, I do not answer. If the forest calls, I do not answer. Listen to the wind, not the whispers.”

Gggaaarrriiiiccckkkk! 

Garrick! 

GARRICK! 

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Somewhere in his head, he started reciting the rules of the woods. It was the only thing he could do. It only registered halfway through the third one. 

“-thing you think is out there is. Rule four. If you hear your name, you don’t. Look away. Walk away. Don’t talk to it. Don’t follow it. Don’t let it know you know. Rule five. Some things are harmless until they’re not. Learn quickly which is which. Rule six. You have to look after yourself. Tell the others if you find them. Warn anyone you come across. Rule seven...” 

Garrick continued through every rule even as he heard the shluff of saliva hit the ground beside him. He tensed his core, steeling himself as one hand absent mindedly reached into his side pouch for the few baneberries he’d kept while his other hand reached up and grasped the medallion around his neck, fingers tracing the sigil he’d carved into it years ago. His imagination was rampant with possibilities for what this thing was doing, but one thing he knew was that it was looking at him with one of those milky, hollow eye sockets mere inches away. 

Then, all at once, with the creaking and snap of its old bones, the thing pushed itself to its feet and staggered off into the woods. The wails and cries of the boney, necrotic mass ventured off into the woods, soon falling silent as the bipedal monstrosity vanished into the trees. 

Garrick, still tense, heaved breath after breath as silently as possible as he dared to open his left eye. The shadows were long and flickering around his miniscule campfire, obscured by his eyelashes which created an odd veil which he wasn’t unfamiliar with. With the coast clear, Garrick slumped against the tree and attempted to calm his furiously beating heart. 

With a grin and muttering just above a whisper, he said, “Rule thirty-one. Remember the Borrower rules if you make it this far.” 

Garrick had thankfully never had to employ the Borrower rules in all his years living out here in the forest. Living in the wilds naturally had its benefits as well as its drawbacks, but Garrick chose it willingly. The trees and brush constructed more of a home than brick and mortar ever could. Sure, there were visitor centers and homes nearby where many friends and family chose to live, but being out here before the cold season was liberating in a way that few Borrowers enjoyed. The outdoors offered a kind of peace he’d never found by lamp light scurrying among the rafters or under the musty floorboards. The dangers were significant, yes, but he’d learned how to contend with these monstrosities. 

Humans had names for things like these. Creep-ids? Or something like that. 

It didn’t matter to Garrick what the humans called these things. All he really knew was they all were real, and he knew how to protect himself against them; at least, most of them. It was part of his curiosity - his drive - for being out here. Learning what these things were. What they could do. Stories of humans, he’d heard, but the odd campfire spooks that struck fear into humans, old and young alike, lured him like rats to refuse. 

These things were more fascinating than anything a human could do. 

Taking out his journal, Garrick began quickly scribbling into his notebook the day and the events that transpired. He quickly sketched the thing from memories of seeing it during other encounters as well as other notes like predictions of when it last ate and the techniques it attempted to use to lure him to it. Each note he made aligned with the creature he often called, “Stalker,” though he was sure humans referred to this thing by a different name. Windy-something? Endigoon? 

“Doesn’t matter,” Garrick muttered to himself as he finished his sketch and his notes. Before having a spot of dinner and sliding into his makeshift tent, he made sure to wipe off his hands from the potential contamination of the baneberry. The last thing he wanted was to get violently ill when he was in need of rations. 

Satisfied, he flipped through his notes, dried meat in his cheek, and made notes of the frequency of seeing his windy-stalker in recent months. The trend was clear - the numbers were increasing. It was a familiar pattern. Migration like. It corresponded with the cold seasons. 

They were coming back from… wherever they came from. Beyond the forest. Beyond the waters. Whatever was north. It was beyond Garrick, but what wasn’t beyond him was a comfortable night’s rest. 

He examined the other notes he’d left about other sightings he’d seen. The odd stairs. The Hiders. Flippers. Ghosts. Splashers. Humans gave them other names, but getting close enough to identify these creatures by human standards was a waste of time. It didn’t really matter to the Borrower. What did matter was the pattern. All of them were coming back from wherever they were, the only ones seemingly vacating the premises were the water-based critters. 

“Makes sense,” sighed Garrick. “Water is going to start getting cold, and they don’t like that. Or…” The Borrower thought about it for a moment. He flipped quickly to the back of his book where he often scratched random notes and, muttering while writing, scratched, “Hybernate, maybe still there?” The thought was unnerving and he fought off a shudder as he thought about the times he’d walked across the ice to common fishing spots, not knowing whether or not one of those things was directly under him. 

“Changes nothing,” he groaned as he kicked dirt over his campfire. With the fire extinguished, leaving Garrick scented with the wood he ensured had a sprinkle of sage. He curled among his leathers and furs, the scent of the wild surrounding him, as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip off into oblivion. 

This was the life of this Borrower. 

Survival.

Exploration.

Curiosities beyond what one would find in the safety of the walls or rafters or floors. 

Garrick’s life was one he deemed simple, despite the oddities that often bled into his day-to-day activities. After all, safety and survival were the main two goals, a benefit being satisfying knowledge of the unknown and learning about the undiscovered wonders of the world that most humans failed to notice and survive against when encountered. 

Dreamlessness embraced the Borrower, and daybreak came too swiftly, bringing with it the activities of the day. Garrick, stretching from under the furs, gazed up at the illuminating sky, the colors streaking across like a watercolor on a canvas, pale and pure. A bit of dew coated the underside of the ferns nearby and the lingering scent the wendy-thing left behind had thankfully dulled. 

I have to filter out some water. I need to do some hunting too. Maybe fishing? Down by the water? Two minnows, one spear? Sure. Sounds alright to me. Need some more cedar too if possible. Maybe mint. That’s sometimes by the water. A bit far, but worth it. Cattails too. Good grief. I’m out of everything. That’s what I get for just focusing on study. 

Garrick groaned to no one other than himself when he pushed himself upright and began the work of the day that he’d known for twenty years. 

Get up.

Find something to eat. 

Drink - if safe. 

Hunt. 

Make notes. 

Don’t get eaten. 

Collect herbs and other low supplies. 

Just another day in the life of an Outie Borrower. 

Garrick, pack secured on his back, began trudging his way down to the water where he’d remembered seeing the supplies he required. His feet made quick work of the moistened roots and knotted branches. Each bound over softened moss was as quick and quiet as a whisper, leaving behind no trace. Nothing but the sounds of the wild, crickets and birds and other odd skittering things, filled the air. 

Weird. Garrick thought as he slowed his run to a light jog, stopping at the first sign the ground was beginning to moisten. Usually I see the stairs or one of the flippers around. It’s where they usually are. Did they decide to move? Alerted, he traversed cautiously toward his quarry, a few long mint stalks that were nestled in the shallow muck. Out of the dozen or so leaves, seven made their way into his bag with a careful pinch, twist, and tuck into the side satchel. 

The Borrower leapt and hooked his spare paperclip onto the roots as he swung from root wad to root wad until he spotted the tall stalks of the cattails he had been hunting. As he stepped up onto one of the roots, however, something caught his attention that chilled him to the bone. Immediately, he crouched low among the roots he was perched on, instincts warning him away from his natural adversary. 

A human. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a human. It wasn’t the first time they’d ventured this far and he’d gone unnoticed. It was still unnerving seeing them though. Features so similar to his own, yet proportionally immense by comparison. From his vantage point, he could only glimpse vague features of the human. Long-ish hair pulled back into a tail-thing. Basing ball hat or whatever they called it. Backpack. Outdoorsy clothing? But nothing to note camouflage. Not tall, but then again who wasn’t when it came to humans and Borrowers. 

I need to get out of this spot if they’re going to be… 

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the lapping waves against the banks of the bay caught his attention. Instinctually, he closed one eye and turned his opened eye to the water, ears intently focused on the sound of the waves. What he feared crept into being. 

Whispers. 

Not just any kind of whispers either. 

“A lure.” Garrick scanned the water, eye locking onto the creature he was all too familiar with. It had another name according to the humans, but he just called it a splasher because it was often the last thing he saw of the thing it happened to have caught in its sights. Pure instinct moved his hand to his side satchel as he tore off a piece of mint leaf, jabbed his hand against his emergency thorn, wiped the blood onto the leaf, and rubbed the bloodied leaf against his forehead, eye looking back to the human as he watched their movements closely. 

He was surprised he missed the signs when he first saw the human. 

Staggering walk. 

Vacant expression. 

As noisy as a human could be if not louder. 

Garrick couldn’t tear his eye away from the human as they continued to stumble toward the water. Tradition dictated that he run away. He could practically hear his predecessors screaming at him from beyond and the visitors centers at the edge of the woods for him to run away. Stay hidden. Don’t meddle with things that don’t directly concern you. Still, he stayed locked in place. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t look away, but he found himself muttering encouragements with each step the human advanced toward the water. 

“Come ooonnn.” Garrick urged quietly. “Move through the cattails. It’ll distract it. Just move through them.” 

The human didn’t. 

Step.

Step.

Step. 

The person was nearly at the water’s edge. 

“Come on!” Garrick urged. 

Step. 

Step. 

Garrick held his breath as he watched like some silent specter. It was agonizing. He’d seen things like this happen before, but it was always in the dead of night when the human was asleep. He’d never confess it, but he’d gone out on a limb, sometimes literally, for a human before, venturing into their camps and spreading sage or cedar or mint around to keep those things creeping in the night away from their intended prey. 

Never was it in daylight. 

Never was it when he could be seen. 

Desperate, he watched the human as he struggled with what to do. 

“Come on! Please…”

Step. 

Step. 

The person’s shoes were practically at the edge of the water. Each pound of Garrick’s thumping heart seemed to slow with each passing beat. He’d seen what became of living things when entering at the splasher’s call. He’d heard their cries - the panic. The moments before when he was forced to witness the end of another life as gnargled, moss woven teeth pulled their quarry under the water to the roots beneath. 

Everything slowed. 

His decision was made. 

Nothing - not even a human - deserved to die like this. 

Against every instinct he possessed, Garrick used the roots beneath to spring forward as he ran along the banks beside the cattails, throwing his body desperately against them in the hopes that motion alone would be enough to break the splasher’s concentration. Knowing he was protected, he opened his other eye and looked to the water to see if his distraction was working. 

No such luck. 

The human still stepped forward, shoes now beginning to enter the water. 

“Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot!” 

What on earth are you thinking?! 

The Borrower pulled out his hooks and, now directly behind the human as they made it one step into the water, threw his hook with all of his might. There was a moment where he braced himself, cursing his own stupidity, as his hook latched onto the human’s backpack. Yanked off of the ground with incredible speed, Garrick scrambled up the line with the momentum he gained from the jolt of his line. 

He grunted as he hoisted himself up onto the backpack as he heard the human’s footsteps breaking the water, now past the ankles and approaching the knees with a single step. Each move jostled the entire pack he was on, making him grab desperately onto the zippers beside him. The human was up to their knees. 

Garrick didn’t waste any time. He scrambled up onto the human’s shoulder, snagging a handful of hair to keep from toppling off, as he caught the slits of the creature’s eyes peering at him from what felt like feet away. 

Not good! Not good! 

His hand flew into his bag as he ripped another piece of mint and dug it into his bloodied scratch from earlier, realizing now there was a choice to be had. 

Rubbing this on the human’s neck where he was currently might work. It would break the splasher’s concentrated hold, but it would be up to the human to resist continuing into the water. It would mean he’d have a chance to get away though. 

Or, alternatively, he could free the human by jumping onto their head and rubbing the mixture on their forehead, breaking the splasher’s hold entirely, but there was no getting around it - he would be seen. 

| ~ What should Garrick do? ~ |

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Voices. 

Whispers.

Whimpers.

Stifled sobs. 

Maerin was convinced it was all in his dreams until the sound of a harsh slap snapped him out of sleep. It was dark out. Instinctually, Maerin reached for the light that Jasper had given him when he picked up the sound of someone - a man - talking low followed by muffled apologies. The hair on the back of the Borrower’s neck stood on end as he listened long and hard to the voices. 

“I don’t want to do this, but you’re over here causing problems. When you talk back, you know what happens. So why do it? Why are you always fighting with her? Do I need to teach you again why that’s disrespectful?” The voice was that of a man; at least, Maerin could’ve attributed the voice to a man. 

“No… no…” 

Jasper. That’s the kid’s voice. But… who is the man? And why does Jasper sound so scared? 

Maerin’s body shuddered as he considered for a moment what might make a child afraid, especially a human child. He knew what Borrower children were afraid of, but it seemed to be an odd list for a human. Creaking floors. Loud noises. Mice. Rats. Bugs. Vacuums. Humans. 

“I think I do. I think I need to show you again what happens when little boys misbehave.”

“P-p-please… I won’t do it again. I w-”

“Shut up!” The hoarse whisper was accompanied with a dull thud, and Jasper’s whimpers quieted to where not even Maerin could make out clearly what the kid was saying. “You like hurting dogs. You like ignoring your mom. All you do is stay up here with your books. What good are you? No wonder they didn’t want you. You’re really only good for one thing, aren’t you…” 

Maerin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, bristling as the sounds of covers rustling and whimpering filled the room. His stomach churned, forcing bile up his throat. The Borrower’s feet guided him from behind the barrier under the cabinet toward the moon lit arch formed by the piece of furniture he was hiding beneath. Each step sent screaming protests ripping through his body. Still, he persisted. 

As he approached, Maerin crouched and dared to peer out from his place of safety toward the sounds he prayed were just a figment of his imagination. His entire body tensed at the sight. 

Life over the past day had been nearly unbearable. No children. No wife. No way to return. To live the life of a Borrower was to know cruelty and danger daily, but this was beyond anything he had been forced to endure - and he’d been swallowed alive by a dog. 

Helpless, he stared up at the towering figure as Jasper sobbed in sync to the man’s movements. 

It wasn’t just will power. It took the strength of his soul to stay rooted to the spot. Paternal instinct flaring, he wished only in that moment to be human to stand up for the child who had protected him. Everywhere. Every muscle. Every fiber of his being screamed in silent agony as he forced himself into the shadows once more. 

Whatever is going on is because of me. He wouldn’t have gone after the dog if I hadn’t gotten caught. He’s been protecting me and acting out because he’d been trying to keep me safe. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. Jasper is suffering at the hands of that… that… thing… while he’s done nothing wrong. Jasper protected me… and now this is happening. I did this. I brought this on him. I… I have to do something. 

He ground his teeth as he was, unknowingly by the humans, forced to witness the attack of the monster, unable to do anything to help. 

It felt long, unbearably so, by the time the man growled some utterance about “respect” and “learning his lesson” before shuffling off. Some brand of eerie silence settled over the room. Like a stinking odor, it lingered and mingled with Jasper’s pillow muffled sobs. 

It didn’t matter that the door wasn’t closed. 

It didn’t matter that the adults could return at any moment. 

It didn’t even matter that the dog could find him. 

Maerin, shaking with the unforgivable blend of sorrow and rage, approached the bed. Though still weak, he made quick work of climbing the bed using the disheveled bed sheets. Each hand full of fabric brought him closer to the trembling boy at the top of the bed. 

Maerin’s urge to hesitate - to turn back - was innate, but was overridden by years of being a father - a dad. The Borrower’s drive of avoiding humans had been completely voided after what he’d seen. 

He wasn’t sure what he could do. What could a Borrower do for a human? 

Maybe nothing. 

Maybe everything. 

What was certain was what a human had done for him, and now it was his turn. 

So, as he maneuvered across the comforter, Maerin put aside what he saw and followed how he felt. All at once, his body relaxed. Though still exhausted physically and feeling everything else under the sun rolling around in his head, the tension eased in his body. 

Some memory back in his mind played out. He remembered Rue, his youngest - the baby - crying about something. So many years later left the details hazy, but the feelings were there mirrored in the human child in front of him. Some part of his voice threatened to give out, but it wasn’t about strength. 

It was about being there. 

“Jasper?” His voice sounded weak and craggly, even from the short time he had refused to speak. There was a distinct pause in the sniffling muffled in the sheets as Jasper’s body went rigid as if hit with a cold chill. 

Did it happen in slow motion? Or was Jasper really moving that slow, still considering the Borrower man and his timidness when the child moved too quickly. Maerin saw those big blue eyes peek out from the covers and blankets he’d gathered around his face like a fort to protect him. The Borrower wasn’t sure who was shaking harder - him or Jasper - but the expression locked on the child's face fueled Maerin’s resolve. 

Maerin’s feet guided him toward the child, instincts once propelling him away from the human now drawing him toward the kid like a magnet. He dared a hesitant smile, which seemed to make Jasper’s shaking intensify, but not like the tremble associated with the fear from moments before. 

It was of relief. 

Tears welled up in Jasper’s eyes, making them shimmer like moonlit pools. He turned onto his side, which jostled the bed and nearly shook Maerin from his stable stance. 

Amazing how even a small shift from this kid can shake worlds. 

Maerin searched Jasper’s face and saw anticipation… hope… frustration… sorrow. It was a hurt he knew he couldn’t reach, but he was certainly going to try. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Maerin risked another step forward to a less stable part of the bed. His Borrower eyes picked up the path he wanted to take, and so he willed himself forward. Over across the comforter. Up onto the pillow that threatened to encase his legs below his knees. Across the pillow until he was inches from the crown of Jasper’s forehead. He could feel the warmth emanating from the kid like some kind of heating element. 

But, as unnerving as it was, Maerin rested his palm against Jasper’s forehead. Emboldened, he glanced down and thankfully didn’t see those orbs looking up at him. That might’ve been too much for the father of three to see at the moment. Some unspoken essence of Jasper’s silence hinted that he clung to every utterance the Borrower had made, and whether it was fascination or fear that drove him, the kid maintained vigil. 

Maerin swallowed his nerves and pressed his palm harder into Jasper’s forehead. “I… I’m so sorry.” Jasper sniffled, body shuddering at the Borrower man’s touch. “I’m sorry, Jasper. This… it’s my… it’s m-my… it’s my fault.” Maerin found himself shaking, sorrow and frustration wracking his body. Words escaped him. Collapsed to his knees on the pillow beneath him, Maerin didn’t even realize he’d leaned forward and had pressed his forehead against the immense forehead in front of him. 

Maerin nearly jumped out of his skin, unaware of his surroundings, as Jasper’s left hand reached up and pressed against his back, moving with careful deliberation, but also something more. Maerin wasn’t sure how he was able to glean emotions through a touch. It seemed impossible, yet it’d happened with his family - his daughters and his wife. Why not Jasper too? 

Reassurance, not giving it, but asking for it. The child was silently asking for reassurance that everything was going to be okay. 

Grounding, because right now that was all Jasper had to keep himself from falling to pieces alone. 

Silent tears rolled down Jasper’s cheeks, across the bridge of his nose, and onto the pillow, making audible sound as they hit the pillows and blankets beneath his head. Maerin fought off his instinct to shy away from the touch as Jasper’s fingers curled slightly against him. The child’s right hand lifted from beneath him, resting against his left hand. Past the child’s palms, Maerin could see that Jasper’s mouth was open in a silent scream as air escaped his throat the way it would a slow leaking tire. 

Maerin summoned his voice again as he felt the human’s silent weep, though it wasn’t very strong. “Jasper, you didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me? It’s not your fault. It’s mine. You… you did nothing wrong.” Maerin’s body shuddered. “You saved me… and I got you in trouble. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.” 

Tears warmed the Borrower’s jaws. Time passed. The night progressed in tense silence, two strangers becoming allies in unexpected circumstances. It was much later when they no longer were shuddering at the other’s touch when Jasper removed his fingers from Maerin’s back. He carefully wiped away the tears that remained pooling in the corners of his eyes and crusting along his lashes before sniffling in a way that Maerin found akin to his middle daughter. 

“It’s… not your fault.” Jasper’s words seemed to emanate from him rather than come from him, voice teasing the line between breath and whisper. “He finds any reason.” 

The simplicity of the sentence made Maerin’s skin crawl. 

“Can’t your mom do something about it?” Maerin knew he sounded desperate from his own inability to act, but he didn’t know what else to do. Jasper’s head shook “no” almost imperceptibly. 

“Taylor knows…” 

“T… taylor? Not…” Maerin leaned back to glimpse the child’s features, hoping to gain some insight from Jasper. 

“No… she’s not my mom, like Ryan isn’t my dad,” Jasper mumbled. Maerin’s silence prompted an explanation. “They’re my fosters. My parents… they… well… they’re not around. They got in trouble, is what the lady in the suit said. I don’t remember her name.” 

Disbelief added itself to the tumultuous emotions churning his gut. “Is there no one you can go to? Tell someone?” 

Jasper shook his head. “I just got here. I don’t know anybody.” Jasper shifted under the blankets, now distracted by something. “Could… could I go close the door? I don’t want them to see you.” 

Maerin glanced back at the door in consideration and nodded, a moment later realizing Jasper couldn’t see him. 

“Yes, please… I mean… it… would be better if you shut the door.” Maerin bit his lip, frustrated his words were failing him. Jasper shifted again on the bed, but took Maerin by surprise as his left hand came up and gently wrapped around the Borrower’s body. The little man didn’t even have time to utter surprise or protest as he was held aloft while Jasper sat up in his bed. 

He was about to say something, some kind of plea to not carry him around, when Jasper gingerly cupped Maerin to his chest, shifted off of the bed, and padded over to the door, which he locked once it clicked shut. Jasper was back on his bed in a few quick steps where, ready or not, Jasper pulled his hand away from his chest - and Maerin with it. 

There, Maerin sat on the edge of Jasper’s hand as the kid raised him up to eye level. The child’s sense of balance was uncanny, almost Borrower-like, as he slipped beneath the covers, pressed his back against the headboard of his bed, and propped up his knees - all while Maerin remained unjostled until Jasper moved his hand to rest on top of his knees. 

Maerin’s legs dangled over the edge of the child’s hand as Maerin felt Jasper marveling at the Borrower man. It was something he feared would happen when daring to speak to the human child. He hoped Jasper’s mind hadn’t been swayed into keeping him in a cage as a pet after this new revelation. 

Maerin’s jaw set as he looked into Jasper’s eyes. He attempted to portray sympathy, but also the will that was his own. He searched the child’s eyes for anything that might hint at new or undiscovered intentions, but the only thing new was a reignited curiosity. 

Comes with speaking to him. I knew I should’t’ve…

“Thank you… for coming and checking on me. You didn’t have to,” said Jasper. His voice sounded small, like he was purposefully trying to keep quiet to not be heard by anyone else in the house while also matching Maerin’s volume. Jasper’s pool-like eyes searched Maerin’s features with what, to Maerin, looked like desperation - like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard Maerin and that it was all just a figment of his imagination. 

I… I have a choice. I mean… he might just think he heard me. I can…

Maerin noticed Jasper’s face falling like a drooping helium balloon. 

No… he deserves this. He already knows. He just wants someone to talk to. He’s earned that much, if not more, from me. 

Maerin swallowed the lump in his throat and offered a smile, though he wasn’t sure how confident or reassuring it was until he saw Jasper’s eyes brighten in the limited light of the moon. 

“O-of…” he cleared his throat as he felt Jasper’s eyes locked onto him. He exhaled shakily and rocked back and forth a few times as if it would rock the words out of him. 

This is different than talking to him before. No hiding. No mistakenly hearing something. Come on! Just… breathe. Maerin inhaled slowly, exhaled the same way, and forcibly stopped his body from rocking. Eyes flicked back up to Jasper’s awaiting gaze. 

“Of course I did,” Maerin sounded more confident than he felt. “But you’re welcome. I… I said it before, but what happened… that’s not okay, and it’s not your fault.” Jasper’s face fell momentarily as he nodded slowly. 

“I know,” he mumbled. 

“No. Really. It’s because of me you did what you did, and I can’t begin to thank you enough. I… I owe you my life,” Maerin urged. Jasper’s cheeks blushed hard, even in the dim light. Maerin continued. “You saved me, and you didn’t have to. You did what no other human has done before, and I hope you know how special that makes you.” 

The glisten of tears returned to Jasper, features softening as if, for the first time in his life, he’d been acknowledged - seen. He wiped his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, heel of his palm pressing into the socket in a vain attempt to stop the tears. 

Such a tender heart. 

“Thank you,” Jasper managed after several long minutes as he mopped up his tears. 

“You’re welcome.” The smile didn’t feel forced as it turned the Borrower’s lips upward. All at once, he didn’t feel as small as he was. Just a father comforting a child in pain and in need. 

Jasper’s mind was obviously reeling with questions. They were practically visible on his lips as he searched the small man’s gaze, neither truly breaking contact with the other; but Maerin knew both of them were on the brink of collapse from exhaustion from the day’s turmoils. He feared his tiredness would weaken his will and his mind to slipping up and answering questions he wasn’t ready - or able - to answer. 

“Jasper,” Maerin began, heading off the undoubtedly numerous questions Jasper had waiting. “I know you have questions. Humans always do. I… I promise I’ll answer what I can, but now we have to sleep. Okay?” 

The pre-teen was obviously crushed, but he locked his jaw regardless. He obviously thought better of asking questions when the miniature man wasn’t interested. It was like he understood on some silent level that pressing and prying now might prevent his curiosities from being addressed later. 

One thing, however, dared to surface as Jasper looked into Maerin’s eyes, unbeknownst to him that Maerin would’ve buckled under the slightest pressure out of pure sympathy for the kid. 

“C-could… um… well… would you stay with me?” Jasper’s eyes glistened with the residual tears he’d kept at bay, now failing to do so. 

Don’t be such a cry baby! Jasper silently scolded himself.

He knew it was a long shot and that this tiny man couldn't do anything to stop Ryan if he returned. Still, having him nearby made him feel braver - not just a scared little kid. He felt crushed as he noticed the small man’s features shift from reassuring to apprehensive and uncertain. 

“Jasper… I… I’m not a doll,” the man said cautiously, like he was tiptoeing around actually telling Jasper “no.” 

The kid shook his head and nodded rapidly, keeping his voice low like when he and his friends, when he had them, would whisper secrets in school. “No. No, I… I know you’re not a doll.” Jasper insisted. “The tears choked his words as he finally managed to get them out. “I… I just don’t want to be alone.” 

Crushed, Jasper leaned forward and began to slip out of his bed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve asked. I… I didn’t mean…”

“Hang on.” Jasper froze as the little man held out his hand. The pre-teen was stiff as a board searching the expression on this strange person’s face. He looked like he was in debate with himself before nodding his head and holding up one warning finger. Jasper knew nothing about this small human-like creature, but what he saw then in that moment was what he imagined a stern father looking like - firm and yet soft. 

Maerin couldn’t even believe he’d considered it, but now as the words came out he was completely flabbergasted. 

“I’ll stay, but only until you fall asleep. Understood?” 

Jasper looked just as stunned as Maerin felt, but nodded slowly, disbelief etched in his features as he mumbled, “Yes sir.” The child rested his hand on the top of his covers, finally letting Maerin move on his own volition, as he moved like water and laid back onto his side where the small man had found him, this time rolling onto his other side to face the wall. He didn’t want to smother the little guy and thought it would be better for the man to find a spot now that he was situated. 

Maerin, now faced with a hill of a body under covers, forced the oddness of the situation from his mind as he ran up along the boy’s covered back and just as easily slid down his chest on the other side, once again looking into Jasper’s eager features. He walked precariously across the uneven surface until he was near the child’s hand and just within view before sitting cross-legged on the bed, back against a lump of covers that undoubtedly rested over the child’s arm. 

Jasper’s breathing slowed with each breath, wide eyes now lulling after only a few short minutes. Before slipping into dreamless sleep, he mumbled, “Thank you,” to the Borrower man. 

Maerin, eyes also lulling, couldn’t help but hope he could find a way to help this child just as much as he’d helped him. 

The question was how.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Maerin’s chest heaved, fighting off the dark vignette threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness, as he chanced a glance on one side and then the next. Flesh. A single hand, the left if he had to guess. Maerin put together all too quickly that he was resting on the boy’s hand, cradled like some kind of moldable mattress against the child’s palm. Images of the boy’s wide blue eyes looming above him made Merin flinch. 

I’ve got to get out of here! I… he… he’s… holding me. I’m caught. I’m caught! This kid is going to give me back to that dog if I don’t get out of here. 

Maerin was shaking from head to toe like a drawn spring doorstop, movements uneven and forcing his body to vibrate to expend the fear wracking his bones. His hands pressed into the muscle of the boy’s hand, making him shudder, as he attempted to scramble off to get as far away from the appendage as he could. He didn’t notice how his movements made the child rigid, instead stopping at the mouth of the pocket he had been placed into as his eyes met the dog’s splayed gaze. 

He barely bit back a shriek as the dog lunged forward toward him. Maerin threw himself backwards further into the pocket, stumbling onto his back. His vision was mostly consumed with the seam of the pocket above him, but he tilted his head back just enough to watch the boy’s left hand yank out of the pocket to better restrain the dog. 

I… he… he’s… Maerin swallowed roughly, realizations carefully approaching like timid animals with each passing second. H-h-he’s… protecting me? No. No! Humans don’t do that. They… th-they catch. They kill! The one human screamed when she saw me. He… he’s got questions. He’s taking me somewhere to get answers out of me. 

No! I… I have to get back. I… I have t…

Maerin glanced at his empty borrowing satchel before fighting the fabric over to the opposite side. Though the interior showed no movement, Maerin glanced up to the window and watched the scenery changing rapidly. His insides dropped. 

Where are we going? No! My family! My girls! The father’s eyes burned as he glanced around the interior. There’s nothing in here for me to use, and with that dog right there I’ll get got for sure. 

I hate this. 

I hate this. 

I hate this. 

I can’t leave the kid’s pocket while that dog is nearby. It’s quick. He might lose his grip and then where will I go? 

I hate this. 

I have to wait. 

Maerin turned and carefully paced, head brushing the top of the pocket, back to the other side, catching a glimpse of the dog which made him feel light headed again. He did this a few more times, but out of sheer futility as each escape plan perished just as quickly as it was formulated. It felt all too soon, but Maerin soon found himself slumped into the fabric, eyes locked onto the opening at his feet while he glanced backwards from time to time when the kid jostled, the fear of seeing those fingers approaching to ensnare him all too real. 

The rumbling hum Maerin hadn’t even noticed stopped after one final jostle and, suddenly, the kid was moving again. Something felt off about how the kid moved. It didn’t feel natural. Maerin knew how kids moved. They leapt out of vehicles. They bounded down hallways with their thunderous steps. They slid and skidded and tripped and bumped into or onto everything they could. That’s not how this felt in the slightest. In a word, it felt precise. Purposeful. 

Is he doing this on purpose? Keeping his prize alive? Maerin thought bitterly. 

“Oh now, don’t drag your feet.” Maerin instinctually seized his muscles and clamped his hand over his nose and mouth, stifling his breath as he hoped he wasn’t noticed. “I know you’re upset, but we’ve talked about Pepper before, and you’re not allowed to make him sick on purpose.” 

Though he couldn’t see through the fabric well, Maerin could barely make out the dog’s snout as it smacked its lips, making him shake. His heart began to pound. Vision threatened darkening. Each breath struggled to make it to his lungs silently. It only intensified as the sound of rustling all around the Borrower man filled his ears as the kid, Jasper, slipped his hands inside the pocket with him. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to jolt away or throw himself out of the kid’s pocket just to get away, but two things stopped him. One, his body wouldn’t move. Fear locked the Borrower father in place and nothing could will him otherwise in that moment. Two, he realized after several drawn out seconds that the boy’s hands weren’t approaching. They weren’t grabbing him. They weren’t cupping him like when he’d first awakened. Both hands were placed gingerly just inside either side of the front pocket Maerin found himself in. 

“I’m getting worried about you, Jasper. This isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this. Is… is this something you don’t want to talk to me about? Maybe someone else? Like daddy or cousin Dee?” 

The dog has done this before? Wait… Talk?! No! Please, no! Don’t say anything. Please, don’t say anything. Don’t show me to her. Please, n-!

“No!” Jasper replied. The volume made the Borrower wince, pressing further into the fabric of the pocket and wishing he was anywhere else. “I know. I’m sorry. I just thought it would be better for…” Please… kid. Don’t say anything about me. Please, let me go. “Me to make him sick instead of him getting sick from whatever he ate.” 

Stunned, Maerin didn’t register the relieved exhale that escaped him. This kid could’ve pulled him out at any point, and yet wasn’t. It made the Borrower wonder. Were his intentions to get information out of him? Or, unbelievably, was this kid interested in helping out of the goodness of his own heart? 

Maybe… he’ll bring me back? He has to! I’ve got to go back. 

“Well,” Maerin heard Jasper’s mom say. “You know dogs aren’t built like people. He was made to eat things we can’t and be fine. And I still think you should talk to someone about this. I’m worried about you. Aren’t we, Peps? Oh you’re such a good boy!”

Cursed mutt! I hope you choke, Maerin thought bitterly as he listened to the snorts of the pug shuffle off with the mom. Now free, the kid zoomed through the house and up the stairs, if the jostling had anything to say about the movements and ended abruptly as the kid pulled his hands from the pockets, shut a door, and locked it behind him. 

Oh no… we’re alone. 

Maerin felt the kid shift, now still as a statue, as he breathed, “Okay, how are we going to do this?” 

The words were haunting. It also echoed what Maerin was thinking. How was he going to do this? He couldn’t see the room, leaving him at a severe disadvantage. If he was going to get away, he needed to know the layout. What was worse was he had nothing to defend himself with. If he’d had his hook or a pin, he could maybe fend off the kid’s eager, prodding fingers or, at the very least, attempt to deter the child from grabbing him frequently. A sliced finger could go a long way in teaching what was bad to touch. 

No such luck.

Maerin was on his own. 

I’m going to have to move quick if I’m going to make it out of this kid’s gr-....

“Um… okay. Uhh, s-sir?” The voice, seemingly emanating from all around him, was soft. Timid. Almost inviting. Maerin didn’t trust it. Instead, confusion began replacing his apprehension. 

Sir? 

“I… I don’t know if you can really understand me, but if you do then I’m just gonna kinda… talk this out? You probably want out of… um… my pocket…” 

You think? Maerin thought bitterly. 

“Wow… that sounds so weird. Um… anyway. I’m just gonna open up this end and lean against the desk and… I guess you just come out whenever?” His uncertainty was tangible, coming off in nervous waves that even the Borrower father could feel. The pocket shifted again, jostling the poor man inside. Maerin’s heart hammered harder, faster, as the child’s fingers snagged the edges of the fabric. He backed up instinctually, stopping short of the hole on the other side, and waited. 

He could barely see a desk at the opened part of the pocket, but not much else was visible. Every ounce of concentration was poured into watching the boy’s hands and listening to everything around him. Was the boy waiting for him to run out? Was he going to get impatient and reach after him? Poised like a taut bowstring, he was ready for whatever was coming for him.

Except, nothing did come for him. 

Minutes dragged on painfully slow. Neither moved. Like statues, they were frozen in place. It was like each was waiting for the other’s first move. It was unnerving. More importantly, it was becoming painful. The tenseness of his muscles was beginning to wear him down, and Maerin was suddenly acutely aware of pain creeping through him. His ribs were beginning to ache with each breath and there was a stinging in his legs and along his forearms. 

Finally, Maerin couldn’t stand it any longer. 

Something was going to give, and waiting any longer was threatening his nerve. Tapping into his natural Borrower balance, he sprinted along the bottom seam of the pocket and propelled himself out onto the child’s desk, taking in the scene as fast as possible. Disheartening didn’t come close. 

Immediately, he spotted action figures with odd joints and faceless features lined up along the back of the wall and not much else. The desk itself was comprised of two parts, top and bottom. The light was embedded into the top part of the shelf with the main desk being relatively clean. No cords. No lines. No lamps. No weapons. There was a bed in the corner of the room to his right and a window between the desk, but because of the construction of the desk with the upper part being flush with the side, there was no way to make the jump to the edge of the window. 

Still, Maerin ran. He slammed into the back of the wall near one of the figures with something like a sword in its hand, the only “weapon” he could discern nearby. He grabbed the blade and pulled, but it didn’t budge. Being closer now, Maerin saw that the figure’s hand was fused with the sword. He looked around wildly, making the mistake of looking up at the boy’s captivated gaze, and changed tactics quickly. 

If he couldn’t defend himself and had no way to get down, he could at least hide himself behind the plastic figures. It was a poor excuse for a barrier, but it was something between him and the human. He peered around the edge of the figure’s smooth head and peered at the boy, who had retreated to a chair that he’d pulled up. The kid’s hands were under the desk, but his eyes were locked onto him. 

Jasper gave a hopeful smile as his eyes stayed locked onto the miniscule man. He was still covered in ick, which was drying and cracking, but it didn’t stop him from noticing the deep scratches on the man’s limbs as well as the cut on his leg, which left behind little bloody footprints as the man ran across the wooden table. Leaving didn’t seem like a good idea, but staying obviously made the man uncomfortable. 

At least he’s out of the pocket now, Jasper thought. 

“Um… hey… you okay? Well… obviously not. I mean, Pepper did kind of… eat you… and… agghh! I’m messing this up,” sighed Jasper. “I… look. I’m really sorry. Tayl… oh… um… mom… um… mom’s dog is a pest. I kind of hate him. He’s always eating things he’s not supposed to. Socks. My drawing figures. I never thought he’d go after a person though; I mean, not that I thought a person could be… you know… that small. Oh… not that… ugh….” Jasper ran his fingers through his head, frustrated, and slumped in his chair. 

The kid wasn’t sure what he could say. Words were lost to him. What could someone say to comfort a small human from the woods who was swallowed by a dog? Instead, he reached down and opened one of his drawers with a first aid kit in it. He opened the box and set it on the table, hesitantly glancing at the man on the desk once more, before pushing the container over toward him. 

“Here. It looks like you’re a bit banged up. There are some bandages and stuff in here. I’ll… uh… get some warm water so you can wash off,” Jasper muttered. He slowly pushed himself up away from the desk and retreated to his door. It took a second to fight his way through since the dog was right there. 

Maerin almost couldn’t believe his luck. The kid left him alone, and now he had some supplies. The moment the kid had vacated the room, he rushed forward and searched through the box. He would’ve run toward the window first, but the thing the kid said about being “banged up” made him uneasy. Hands shaking, he looked down at his leg and lifted the leg of his pants, stomach churning as he saw the drag marks of the dog’s teeth discoloring his legs. What was worse was there was a shallow gash leaking blood in a thin stream down his leg into his sock and through his pant legs. 

I can’t linger. I have to patch that up later. Right now, I have to grab what I can and get out of here. 

Maerin rummaged around and grabbed some soft bandages, a couple safety pins, and a few other quick odds and ends including a couple small bandaids. He figured he could use the sticky end for a number of things, even if he didn’t use it on the scrape on his leg. The Borrower turned his attention back to the window, heart trembling as he approached. There was a fear somewhere lingering deep inside him like a chill he couldn’t reach. Some part of him knew the answer to his question, and yet he knew he must; even though he didn’t want to.

The Borrower father approached the edge of the desk and stared up at the ledge of the window. At this angle, he couldn’t see anything but sky. He thought quickly and searched the area desperately but found nothing useful to get him over to the ledge. Maerin ran to the other side, limping as the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and his injuries were beginning to ache and sting. He looked over the edge, this time spotting something beyond the vertigo inducing distance. 

A cord. 

It was a few inches too far, but that wouldn’t stop him. He needed to see if he could escape. If Maerin could get to the ground, he could check the trim and escape into the walls. He could make it back outside to his family. Even if he didn’t know where he was, he could figure it out. 

He had to. 

He decided it was a good back-up, but that he needed to figure out where he was before surrendering the high ground. The Borrower father walked back to the window, determined to find a way up to the ledge. His eyes searched the surface of the desk desperately, scanning for anything he could use. The medical supplies were still an option, though he didn’t have a clean way of carrying all of them, especially when his body started aching more with each passing second. 

He was about to resort to his last ditch effort when he spotted something in the corner of the desk along the side of the shelf wall. It was a ruler. Old. Wooden. Covered in ink and paint marks. 

Perfect. 

It was only six inches long, but it would be more than enough for the Borrower to work with. Maerin grunted as he unwedged the ruler from the corner of the desk, biting back pain as he scraped his leg against the ruler. His muscles screamed in protest as he dragged the ruler over to the edge and proceeded to wrestle one of the figures over to the edge. With how smooth the desk was, he needed something to prop the ruler on for base support. The figure would be perfect. 

He quickly used the bandaid and some of the bandages on the end of the ruler, knowing he didn’t have the strength to keep the ruler lifted long enough to catch the edge. His fingers were fleet as he created a makeshift drawbridge, base of the ruler propped on the figure, which he was using as part of a pulley, and the bandages creating the cords to lower it. 

I have one shot at this. Come on. If I can get over there, I can make it to the bedside table and then to the ground faster - safer. From there… I… I’ll… No. Don’t think about that yet. One thing at a time. 

Maerin gritted his teeth and lowered the ruler. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until the ruler tapped down on the other side, resting on the window ledge. His heart beat excitedly. Hands felt like they were shaking despite them being steady and calm. He quickly tied off the bandages on the figure and gave the ruler a test step before quickly crossing to the windowsill. 

The moment he did, his knees nearly gave out. His chest clenched harder than when he was being restricted by the dog, squeezing the life out of his lungs. His jaw set as he stared bitterly out the window at the unfamiliar surroundings he now found himself in. 

There was no forest. No trees except for some odd, scraggly looking ones. No park. No road. Just rows and rows of strange houses that looked nothing like anything Maerin had seen before. He didn’t even realize his fists were clenched until he felt the bite of his nails against his palm. Thoughts began to drain away, replaced by a high-pitched whining as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

What to do vanished. 

Where he was seemed unimportant. 

Everything was replaced with the impossibility of finding his family. 

In those brief moments where Maerin, stunned, stared out the window, the door opened again and the child reentered the room. The click of the door made the Borrower man jump out of his skin. Maerin spun around and saw Jasper carrying a bowl of something that was steaming. Both were locked in place. Those blue eyes kept Maerin motionless. His stomach churned uneasily as Maerin realized he’d lingered too long, showing the child how clever he could be with what he built. All at once, Maerin felt like himself as he took a few hesitant steps backward along the windowsill. 

No! Cornered. Not again. How do I get away? I… I need to get to the bedside table. Then to the bed. I can make it to the ground. 

“Oh… hey. You’re up running around? How’d you even get over there?” Jasper asked, spotting the makeshift bridge. Curiosity filled his features, fascinated, as he approached the desk and set down the bowl of warm water. “Did… you make this?” 

You don’t know the half of it, boy! I’m not about to give you the upper hand yet. 

Maerin knew it was a long shot, but he needed to take the chance. He spun on his heel and sprinted for the edge. The kid’s mouth opened to say something, but Maerin wasn’t ready to stop and listen. Instead, he flung himself off toward the bedside table. The free fall was too quick and yet not fast enough. It gave him a precious moment to plan his landing. His feet made contact with the desk and he tumbled onto his side, letting him use the momentum to get back onto his feet before leaping onto the kid’s bed. 

“Wow, how cool!” Jasper uttered, propelling Maerin faster down the bed covers as his fingers grasped the comforter desperately. The moment he made contact with the ground, Maerin sprinted for the corner of the room for the baseboard. Each thought dominoed into the next. 

If he could get to the baseboard, he could get into the walls. 

If he could get into the walls, he could hide out there and get outside. 

If he could get outside, he could make it back. 

The same thoughts blasted on repeat, driving his aching muscles faster as he slammed into the wall. The dim light the bed allowed was more than enough for the Borrower to see, though he felt a moment of confusion as he ran. 

If this was a boy’s room, why wasn’t it messier? 

His fingers found the seam of the wall and jammed into it, but his fingers didn’t slip deep. It wasn’t a good sign. He tried high and low, but it was useless. Maerin turned and followed along the baseboard, feeling and pressing every inch in hopes of finding the right seam. All the while, he continued to check over his shoulder, dreading seeing the kid’s face peering down at him, silhouetted except for those big blue eyes. 

The Borrower darted from shadow to shadow around the entire room. He was fueled by pure desperation now. Each place he checked turned up nothing. Every trick proved useless. Before he knew it, Maerin had scoured the entire room, closets and all. The Borrower avoided the door, freezing momentarily as he glimpsed the glistening nose of the dog as it tried to squeeze its paw under the door, but it became very apparent that the only way out of the room was either out of the window to scale the entire building or out of the door past the dog. 

I… it’s impossible. I can’t… Maerin staggered backwards until his back hit the wall. The father sank against the wood, back scraping against the baseboard. A realization hit him harder than any beam that he’d caught in his midsection. It was a crushing, horrible thought that crushed him more than any grasping human hand. 

This place has never been a Borrower’s home. 

I can’t get into the walls. I’m… I’m stuck. 

Maerin’s vision blurred. He bit his lower lip, head slamming back into the baseboard once. Twice. Thrice. Warm, salty tears stung his eyes, which he kept pinched together, afraid of what he might see if he opened them. Bile burned the back of his throat, churning his already viciously nauseous stomach as the smell alone made him choke. His thoughts snapped to the kid as he felt the vibrations in the ground of feet the size of his body. 

I showed everything too soon. He knows I can make things. He knows how fast I can be. I… I can’t get out. This place… I’m trapped. 

“Hey, sir? Are you… oh… no… um….” The sound of a two-part thud, most likely of the kid’s knees hitting the ground, was far too close for the Borrower’s liking, but even knowing that he was in the sights of a human child, Maerin couldn’t will himself to move. Instead, he opened his eyes indignantly, face locked as if carved from marble, and stared up at the child. The look he was met with wasn’t what he expected. 

He thought maybe fascination. He thought maybe eagerness. Wonder. Curiosity. Something to reflect the kid’s surprise and desire to know more about the “tiny man” he’d “found.” 

No. 

It was a look of sympathy. 

It was a look of heartache. 

Something in the kid’s eyes somehow reflected the pain piercing his soul. 

For only a moment, Maerin felt the tenseness in his body ease as he looked up at the monumental child, soothed by those blue eyes that petrified him. The moment soon passed, replaced by exhaustion. Everything took enormous effort. Breathing felt weighted as if he were pinned under a chair leg. His lids drooped. The pain of his compressed lungs, forming bruises, and sluggishly leaking leg wound broke his will to run. 

“Hey… I… I’m sorry. I know you’re upset… and probably scared. It’s okay to be scared. I get scared too, sometimes,” Jasper said, speaking as if coaxing a timid animal to him, not that Maerin was enticed by words alone. The kid, who was sitting up on his knees, leaned over and hunched in on himself like a turtle. “You’re hurt, and still kinda dirty. I have warm water on the desk over there. Y-you don’t have to, but… it might be nice to get rinsed off.” 

Maerin thought of the futility of it. Why? Why did it matter? Unless the kid was able to take him back, he’d never see his family again. His daughters… 

“Could… could I pick you up? Help you?” asked Jasper. Maerin’s heart spiked, blood pounded hard in his ears as the prospect sank in. It wasn’t what he wanted. Then again, a lot of things happened in a very short amount of time that he didn’t want. Then, much softer, Jasper asked, “Please? Will you let me help?” 

Really… what am I going to do? What can I do to stop him? Even if I say no, would he listen? It feels like he might, but that might also just be a trick. I just… I want to go home. I want my girls… my wife… I… I’m alone. I can’t get back to them. Does… does any of it even matter? 

Numbness crawled through his veins. His body went limp, though he was still awake and aware. Jasper’s fingers, both immense and miniscule, gently slipped under Maerin’s arms, pads of his fingers pressing into the Borrower’s sides. He didn’t resist. He let the kid lift him into his hand and up onto the desk where he’d splayed a wash cloth among other items like a toothbrush and ointments Maerin recognized from medicine cabinets he’d explored in his youth. 

Like one of the figurines, Maerin disconnected from his body as the child worked. 

Jasper, on the other hand, could not get himself to stop shaking. From watching the tiny man launch himself off of the windowsill and shimmy down his bed, his excitement and fascination took on new meaning as he watched the tiny man run around his room. He dared not move, terrified to scare the poor guy after everything that happened, until he saw him stagger out of the closet and slump against the baseboard of his room. 

Every instinct was to get the guy off of the ground. Pick him up. Protect him. 

He fought it every time. 

Too often, he wanted to be left alone and wasn’t. 

Too often, he thought about what he needed when things were hard, but never got. 

So, he waited at his desk and listened. For what felt like hours, he stood at his desk and listened for any sign from the miniature man beside his desk until, surprised, he heard a gasping shudder followed by tiny, rhythmic thumps. He peeked over the edge of his desk and saw the man was hitting his head against the baseboard. 

Even though he tried to be gentle, offering support and trying to relate, there was a moment where Jasper watched the tiny man break. As his fingers approached, the man did nothing. Upon being picked up, he went nearly limp. He didn’t fight. He didn’t squirm. The whole time, he kept his eyes averted, which broke Jasper’s heart. 

Still, leaving him bruised and disgusting didn’t feel right. 

Jasper set the man down onto the washcloth he’d brought and clumsily attempted to clean the man off; at least, clean off the place where he’d seen blood. Much like his drawing figures, the man let Jasper lift his leg after he’d brushed away some of the now dried chunks of dog food still plastered onto him with the softest toothbrush he could find and used a bit of ointment on the cloth bandages to wrap around the injury. 

It was far from perfect, but Jasper wasn’t sure what else to do. Short of dunking the man in water to clean him like he’d had to do with too many of his own things, there was little else he could do to help without being invasive. Instead, the kid found some soft socks that were clean and stuffed them inside one another until it made a long bean-bag like mattress. He took a shoebox and cut the edge off so the man could go in and out and put it on the ground just under his bed. It seemed to be where the man wanted to be in the first place. 

Picking him up once more by fishing his fingers under the man’s arms and placing him on his palm, he set him on the ground beside the box and tried to coax him off. 

“I know it isn’t much, but it’s what I have. And don’t worry. I’ll make sure Pepper doesn’t ever come in here,” reassured the boy. Maerin, dejected, couldn’t bring himself to do anything but scoot off of the kid’s hand and hobble toward the sock bed that was prepared for him. 

“Do you… live in those woods? Where we were before?” asked Jasper. Maerin stopped, a shiver hitting him like an electric spark. Jasper noticed the hesitation and continued. “I… I don’t know what you’re thinking, or where you came from, but… if that place was your home… I… I want to try and get you back there.” 

Maerin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Something made him turn around and look up at the kid. Perhaps it was hope. Maybe it was to simply determine if the child was lying. Whatever the case, he gleaned honesty in those blue eyes. 

“Is that your home?” 

Is he trying to figure out if there are more of us? Or is he trying to help? Maybe just trying to get me to talk?

“Well, I’ll ask if we can go back to the park soon. Okay? And if you want to come, you can,” Jasper said while offering a little smile. That moment - that look - was worth more than all the borrowings in that home. 

Maybe… maybe I can make it back. If the girls stay put, I can make it back to them. I can’t believe I’m trusting a human, but if what he’s saying is true…

“Jasper!” Both Borrower and child nearly jumped out of their skin as they turned toward the door, the rattle of the door handle sounding like rolling thunder. “It’s lunch time. Why is your door locked. Jasper? What are you doing in there? You know you’re not allowed to lock your door. Open it, now.” 

Jasper looked down at the man, mouthing, “Hide,” before retreating to the door. 

“Coming. I just needed a second. I was… working on a project,” Jasper replied. He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring Maerin was hidden under his bed, before unlocking the door. He slipped out of the room, quick as a flash, and left Maerin once again alone. 

Exhausted, the father retreated to the bed and quietly examined the bandages. 

Well… whaddya know. The kid did a decent job. Loose, but good. 

Maerin glanced at the door across the vast floor and sighed. The door continued to rattle as the dog pawed at it, paw visible from the shadow below the door. 

I hope he’s telling the truth. Please… please let him get me home.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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