Wyatt's eyes felt so heavy; he had never been so tired in his life. All he wanted to do was sleep, forever. But for some odd reason, his mind was awake.
He could hear the sounds around him, but he couldn't make out what he was hearing. His sense of smell might have been broken because, for some reason, he was smelling… Green?
'All my muscles hurt so bad. What exactly happened?'
He tried to move, but even moving his fingers felt like a chore.
After what felt like an eternity, he could finally make out some of the sounds around him; he could hear humming—horrible, inharmonious humming.
"Oi, you finally awake?" A loud, deep, burly voice assaulted his eardrums.
'So loud,' Wyatt inwardly groaned.
"Oi, you ignoring me, lad? Oi, oi." The assault on his poor ears continued.
"I can hear you just fine, no need to yell," Wyatt finally spoke, rolling to face the opposite direction of the noise pollutant. Although "spoke" was a stretch, because his voice was barely audible.
"Lil' man, ya got to speak louder. You said you want me to yell?" The voice sounded even closer this time, accompanied by an annoying poke at his side.
"Aaaaaaaargggggggghhh! Leave me alone! Can't you see I'm resting?"
Wyatt sat up with so much force it startled the burly man.
'huh?' Wyatt looked at the stranger. He did not know this man. Why was he here? Where even is here?
"AAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!" Wyatt screamed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!!" the stranger yelled back.
"Why are you yelling?!" Wyatt was shocked. "You're the kidnapper!"
"Ya scared the living crapola outta me. Who wakes up screaming?" The stranger looked equally as shocked as Wyatt.
"I scared you?! You kidnapped me!" Wyatt could feel his veins popping at this point.
"Kidnapped you?" The stranger stood up and pointed at him. "Ya don't even look stacked. Why in Davy Jones' name would I nick ya?"
'nick? Davy Jones? What the hell is he saying?' Wyatt just stared at him like he was mad or something.
The stranger took a few moments to compose himself before walking to a campfire at the side. He seemed to be cooking.
Wyatt finally took a moment to look around him and noticed he was in a forest of sorts.
'green.' he chuckled to himself.
The burly stranger was too focused on his cooking to notice Wyatt staring at him. After a few more turns on whatever it was he was cooking, the stranger finally turned his focus to the confused teenager.
"Soup?" the stranger offered with a smile, revealing a perfect set of teeth.
One look at this 'soup' told Wyatt that this man definitely wasn't a gourmet chef.
"I'm… good. Who are you? Where am I?" Wyatt rejected the soup and went straight to the point.
"Straightforward lad, aren't ya? I like it," the stranger laughed loudly.
"Name's Craven, but you can call me daddy," he introduced himself.
"I most certainly will not." Wyatt immediately shut down the idea, a disgusted look on his face. This man was not normal.
"C'mon, Lil' man, try it," Craven pushed.
"No."
"Just once."
"That's it, I'm out." Wyatt stood up to leave.
"Clearly you have a few screws loose and need to get…" Wyatt suddenly felt like the world was spinning and lost his balance. It was all coming back to him.
His body fell to the ground with a thud, clearly feeling the effects of malnutrition.
"Yer look like shite. Wanna have some of my soup?" Craven offered again as he walked over to pick him up.
"I said no!" Wyatt shot him a sharp glare.
Craven laughed and helped him up. Wyatt was weak, but at least now he could stand on his own.
"Who are you and where's the kind man that gave me food?" Wyatt asked as he held his head.
Craven smiled again but didn't reply immediately, going to check his "soup."
"We're almost home. I just took a break 'cause I got hungry, ya know?" he told him casually.
Wyatt had a deadpan expression on his face as he came to a sudden realization. This weird, creepy, mysterious man and the guardian angel that saved his life by giving him food were the same person.
"It's you?" Wyatt's eye twitched.
'I could have sworn he looked more majestic! Or was I just hallucinating? This guy is…'
Craven was in no way ugly; he was quite a handsome man, but his rough exterior made him look more like a brute.
They both stayed for a while. Wyatt didn't know what to say, and Craven seemed completely immersed in making his poison soup.
"So…" Wyatt finally broke the silence, although he was a bit nervous.
"Why'd you do it?"
"Hm?" Craven raised a brow, still focusing on his soup.
"...Take me with you. I… I told you I was… cursed," he sighed. "And don't give me that 'taking care of strays' crap."
Craven turned to him with a gentle smile.
"Caring for kids like you… gives me purpose, makes me happy, ya dig?"
Wyatt wanted to smile back, wanted to be genuinely happy that someone wanted to take care of him, but deep down he knew that he couldn't—not without telling Craven the truth first.
"Then…" Wyatt clasped his shaky hands together, "there's something you should know…"
He took a deep breath and told Craven everything, from his "awakening" to burning the orphanage and all the people who died because of him.
It hurt him to relive all those horrible memories, and the fear that Craven might decide to abandon him after hearing everything made his chest tight, but he didn't want to lie to someone who looked at him with such pure intent.
Craven stayed silent for a while, almost as if he were contemplating, and when he finally opened his mouth to speak…
"Do you smell my soup burning?" he asked with a serious face.
"Soup? This is serious. I could be a danger to you if you take me in." Wyatt gave him an annoyed look.
Craven burst into a long, belly-aching laugh, clutching his stomach as tears poured down his face. For a second, it genuinely looked like the man had stopped breathing.
"Oh… oh God, you're funny," he managed to spurt out, but then, seeing the expression on Wyatt's face, more laughs threatened to burst out. "You're serious?"
Wyatt stared at him with a flat, unamused expression. What could this brute possibly find funny?
Craven finally calmed down after a while of more laughing, much to Wyatt's annoyance.
"What triggered the whole incident?" Craven asked him while fanning his face with his palm. This kid cracked him up.
Wyatt opened his mouth to speak but suddenly stopped.
"I… I don't remember," he finally said, with a worried expression. It was like the memory was there, yet it wasn't. He felt like he had forgotten something important. "I don't remember…"
"Then maybe it wasn't important," Craven remarked. He stood up and stretched his body.
He twisted his neck and, from the corner of his eyes, saw Wyatt still sitting, staring down at the ground.
"Well, come on then. Let's go." He playfully kicked Wyatt.
Wyatt's eyes widened.
"But, I'm—"
"Not a problem," Craven spoke over him. "No offense, kid, but you couldn't even hurt me if you tried." He winked at him.
"You don't understand. This thing in me… it makes me trouble."
"Yeah," Craven yawned. "But you'll just be one of my troubles."
Wyatt raised a questioning brow.
"Don't think you're special, kid. You're not the only one that's trouble. Now you can either come with me willingly, or I drag you along." Craven cracked his knuckles with a smile.
"What's it gonna be?"
Wyatt froze at first, then something inside him loosened.
The fear didn't vanish—but it was pushed aside by something warmer.
Something dangerous in its own way.
Relief.
For the first time since the fire, since the shouting, since the running, he wasn't alone.
His shoulders trembled, not from fear, but from the sudden weight of it all finally pressing down. Someone was offering direction. Shelter.
"Yeah." He nodded quickly, almost eagerly, before he could overthink it.
For the first time in a long while, Wyatt felt… taken care of.
He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, tears of joy for the first time in a long while.
"Great…" Craven folded his arms, realizing he didn't know the child's name.
"Wyatt," he introduced himself, understanding Craven's pause.
"Well, Wyatt…" Craven spread his hands in a grand gesture.
And suddenly, Wyatt noticed seven people perched up in the trees around them.
"Welcome to the Dark Bulls."