Ross glances over at the men gathered at the edge of the village. They are tense, and are carrying an odd mix of common tools from the village that could questionably be used as weapons in a desperate situation.
A feeling that Ross is unfamiliar with wells up in his throat. It makes him uneasy. He lives for several thousand years as a kraken, but he doesn't know what this emotion is.
Part of him wants to go tell the men not to bother with the search because they won't find anything, since he's the culprit. But another part of him, which is stronger, doesn't want him to say anything. He doesn't want the adults of the village to be scared, but he is questioning what he should do.
The men begin to walk towards the forest, grim looks of determination on their faces. They are determined to do anything to keep the village safe, and Ross begins to wonder if he is doing the right thing by keeping his mouth shut.
He turns around and begins walking toward the center of the village, where the storyteller is keeping the other children occupied with another epic tale. A much more upbeat one, since he is keeping the children from realizing that something has the adults scared.
Ross arrives at the back of the group of children, a frown on his face as he fights with his own thoughts, barely listening to the storyteller.
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The storyteller, whose name is Marcus, notices Ross at the back of the group after a few minutes. The frown on his small face, although cute, is unlike the typically smirking boy.
Concerned, the storyteller wraps up the tale with a dramatic flourish, causing all the children except Ross to cheer in excitement. They quickly run off, pretending to be brave adventures, exploring ancient ruins.
Ross was completely still, completely absorbed in his thoughts. Marcus slowly walks over to the little boy, not wanting to startle him. He kneels down in front of him and places a gentle hand on Ross's shoulder.
"Are you alright, Ross?" he asks softly.
Ross jumps slightly at the touch and flashes a small smile. "Mister…I just, I don't…" he trails off.
"Ross," Marcus says gently, but firmly. "If something is bothering you, you should talk to someone about it. It's not good to keep those types of thoughts secret. It'll make you sad."
The auburn haired boy looks down at his feet. A quiet whisper follows, "But I don't know if I can tell anyone about this…I'm scared of how others will react."
Marcus internally realizes that the boy speaks a lot more fluently then the other children his age, almost like an adult. Marcus stands up. "Come, child. We can talk in my house. No prying ears there. You should know that as a storyteller, I am excellent at keeping secrets."
Ross looks at him with a dazed expression. "Alright, I suppose I can tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else."
Marcus smiles, "Of course, Ross. I promise." He takes Ross's hand and leads him into his tiny home, putting a heavy crate against the door once inside to keep any unexpected visitors out. He doesn't want this conversation interrupted because Ross is known by all the adults in the village to be very untrusting. Many of them have tried to get the child to talk to them, but he always runs off as soon as the questions shift toward trying to figure out what he's hiding.
"Take a seat, Ross." He says as he walks over to the cupboard, grabbing a few rolls to offer to the boy.
Ross takes a seat on a small wooden stool, nestled in a corner, gratefully taking two rolls from Marcus. He's fidgeting, and Marcus backs away, taking a seat on his bed.
"Alright, Ross. Want to start telling me what's wrong?" Marcus gently pries.
The boy smalls a chunk of bread, beads of sweat visible on his forehead. "Uhm, you know about the bear? I…uhh…" Ross hesitates.
Marcus is shocked that Ross knows about the bear that was killed, seeing as though the adults in the village did their absolute best to keep the kids from finding out. He keeps his expression neutral, not wanting Ross to feel too uncomfortable to continue.
After a moment Ross whispers something that Marcus couldn't hear. "I'm sorry, Ross. I couldn't hear that."
The boy gulps, before saying it again, slightly louder. "I killed the bear."
Marcus freezes temporarily, trying to process what he just heard. "You, a four-year-old boy, killed that bear?"
Ross is shaking nervously. "Yes?" he squeaks. "It suddenly charged at me, so I kicked it. I'm stronger than I look."
Marcus berates himself mentally, for questioning the truth of Ross's revelation. "I'm sorry, Ross. I didn't mean to imply I didn't believe you. I do. It's just a surprise."
A small nod from the boy. "That's why I didn't want to tell anyone. Cause I know I'm not normal. I don't want anyone to be scared of me." He frowns again, "But they are, even if they don't realize it's me there searching for in the forest. I feel bad, cause they're not going to find anything."
Marcus nods, "That's understandable. Not wanting to say anything is a form of self-preservation. However, we at least need to figure out a way to soothe everyone's fear, and tell them that there's no monster here."
As Marcus is speaking he watches Ross's expression darken considerably. His aquamarine eyes dart up to Marcus's face, before quickly darting away. Several minutes of silence as Marcus waits patiently. It's obvious that Ross has something else to tell him, but is really scared to reveal it. A quiet murmur follows, "But there is…"
Marcus's mind races briefly, trying to figure out what the boy means without vocalizing his questions. He comes up blank, despite his best efforts. Ross killed the bear, so there's no monster in the forest, yet Ross insists that there is a monster.