Rick stared, silence louder than any screaming monster, mind racing at impossible speeds, his own thoughts blurred together in a messy soup, a puzzle of thoughts blended together haphazardly. He didn’t understand what he had just heard, nor could Benji, who stood by the door screaming loudly at his mother.

“He’s gonna be my dad!?”

Sigurd continued looking at Rick, keeping her stoic façade, a façade slowly but surely crumbling, like sand in a sand castle under the crushing tides. Face growing redder, glowing, eyes widening, nostrils opening, sweat pouring. It all happened within the span of a second, but in that moment, Rick’s mind worked overtime, it was like he could see every minute detail, like time had stopped for just this second, forcing Rick to experience it for an eternity. But when the eternity ended, Sigurd jumped up, her chair crashing backwards in a loud clatter, yelling out with slight panic in her voice.

“NO! No Benji I didn- I was- I said- GO TO BED! RIGHT NOW!”

She roared, like a lion in the stepp, like a warrior on the battlefield, her child running away into the other room with a bang, giggling with an innocence that would have been better held back, causing his mother great shame. Sigurd stared after her son, staring at the now closed door, droplets falling down her face, her body practically steaming. Rick sat there, fiddling with his thumbs, really finding his shoes quite fascinating, realizing that there were still blood caked on them, it would be prudent to take them off.

As Rick took the time taking off his shoes, Sigurd kept staring at the closed door, holding the silence that was no mere silence. Even keeping it as Rick went to hang up his shoes, even as Rick drank the last of his tea, even as Rick ate the last of his bread, only speaking once her flushed face cooled down into a normal colour, turning to face him.

“Okay, that wasn’t what I meant to say. I’m so sorry. It-it… it’s been a long month and the word just slipped. Hard at work you could say, hehehe.”

She let a small silence sweep in, like cold wind on a hot summer’s day.

“Anyway, what I meant to say was, could you be Benji’s babysitter for a few days? Money’s tight at the moment and I’ll need to work in the city. And well, you seem really dependable… and kind.”

Yet again, she let silence rain true, but this time it was different, like the sun peaking around dark clouds on a stormy day.

“I won’t be able to pay you, but you’ll get a roof over your head and food to sate yourself. It would really help- You’ll do it?”

Sigurd didn’t have to say more before Rick had accepted, even if the mention of no pay stung, free food and lodging was more than fair. Besides, what did he have to lose, he would just have to take care of a boy who already seemed to like him. So yes, Rick nodded, nodded with vigour rivaling that of a youth getting their first job, almost true for Rick too. And Sigurd seemed more than pleased by the excited nod, smiling a warm smile, a smile that turned into a yawn.

“It’s getting late, isn’t it? Let’s get some shut-eye. We don’t have much so you’ll have to share a bed with me. But before we do that, you really, really need a bath. You stink.”

Now it was Rick’s turn to change his colour, reddish hue, like a radish recently picked. Sigurd dragged Rick outside, making him strip as she began filling a barrel of water. Underneath the already half full barrel, sat a stone, a stone with an unknown rune on it, with scribbles of what Rick assumed to be words next to it. But even if Rick didn’t know what it said, he knew what it did and decided to help. Leaning down, buck naked, he touched the stone, closing his eyes for better focus, feeling the life within him rising to surface, like heated water rising from a bubbling kettle. As the life within reached his skin, he pushed at it, coercing it gently towards his arm, towards his hand, towards his fingers, collecting them in a last effort before he pushed them out and into the stone. The rune started glowing, red and orange, like a living fire, warm colours that searched his soul and warmed it, but not cooking it, very important. Rick didn’t give much, yet felt as if the life within was bigger than normal, and quickly removed his hand, the rune still glowing as he did, pondering for a second why he had so much life.

Sitting up, he noticed Sigurd looking at him, her head leaning to the side, mouth slightly agape, one brow raised above the other, nodding pleased, something that pleased Rick. But as Rick stood up, she gestured for him to get in the barrel, holding a long stick with what looked like a rough sponge, feeling more like a cactus, intensely uncomfortable, intensely painful, something Sigurd must have noticed if her giggles were any indication.

Finished with the bath, Rick was pointed in the direction of the bed, given new clothes that were far to big for him, told that his own would dry overnight. He would have protested, told her that this was to much for him, that she didn’t need to do this, but only managing a few awkward gestures that were brushed off as something else. Rick sighed, lying himself down on the bed, a lot bigger than what normally two people would share. Slowly sinking in on the comfy bed, a thousand times more comfortable than the ground, he immediately fell asleep, the day being long, fatigue like the heaviest blanket. Sigurd came some time later after having made sure her favorite little boy was asleep. Upon entering the room and seeing Rick splayed out like a warrior after a long days march, she couldn’t help but smile, reminded of old days, a warm feeling welling up in her heart.

Waking up, Rick had to adjust to the still dark room, usually woken by the morning birds and shining sun, not the case today. Slowly pushing himself up, he found himself not bothered by the usual back pains, icy cold veins nor cakey eyes. It was actually pleasant, like stretching after a long day of work, like eating a cake after a delicious meal. As he got up on his bum, he stretched pleasantly, wondering absentmindedly where Sigurd was. Standing up, his legs wobbled, not from the usual stiffness but from how weirdly soft they felt. His body ached, but subdued, easily forgotten. He hadn’t felt this great in ages, in millennia, in forever. Looking around, he quickly spotted his clothing, clean and immaculate, like a baby's bottom. He touched them, caressed them, amazed at how such simple clothing can feel so wonderful. He immediately put them on, awkwardly in his haste, and felt like an angel sleeping on clouds.

Standing comfortably still, feeling wonderful, he glanced down at his friend Bob, noting him still sleeping on the bed. Then he looked a little closer, and noted that he wasn’t really asleep, he was unconscious. Then he looked a little closer, and saw that no, he wasn’t unconscious nor asleep; He was not of this world at the moment. Like a body after its owner had gone, like a nut without its meat, like a lost soul. At this moment, Bob could be considered "dead", dead if he had ever been alive in the first place. The thought felt like a thousand needles stuck in Rick’s heart, his heart feeling heavy, as if something was burning uncomfortably close.

Rick decided to give Bob a little wake up call, reaching inside himself, pushing his own life within Bob. While he did that, a passing thought crossed his mind, wondering how Bob had even managed to stay awake for so long. Normaly, Rick’s statues usually only lasted a day or two. But the thought passed quickly, replaced by a smiling Bob waving at him with a slant smile, warming Rick’s small heart. Tuckering Bob snuggly into his chest pocket, he once again focused on the task at hand.

Opening the door, a waft of smells hit his face, like a knockout punch to his stomach, screaming out in pain. He had to blink the tears away, streaks of light searching their way in from a closed window. Sigurd standing in front of it with a knife in hand, cutting a soft loaf of bread. The sizzling sounds of meat coming from the cauldron, everything culminating in a maelstrom of smells, all too much for Rick and his bottomless stomach. The first to notice Rick was the knight, tapping his wooden sword at Benji’s leg, pointing it at Rick. Benji took his eyes away from the task he was focused on, looking up at Rick, a smile spreading as he yelled out.

“Dad!”

Sigurd immediately turned around, knife held high, stopped mid-swing, face flushed red. She yelled with a mighty roar, startling little Benji, forcing him to flee for his tiny little life outside into the cold.

“BENJI! He is not your dad! Benji! Come back here!”

But it was for naught, little Benji had already sprinted outside, away from his mothers raised voice, running with a knight on his shoulder, as if riding the mightiest of steeds. Rick kept his eye on Benji, turning his attention at Sigurd as she turned hers to him, face vividly coloured, a colour seemingly normal for this little family. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, her hand raised with the knife holding it, opening and closing, repeating as she searched for the right word. But Rick was merciful, he understood, understood her embarrassment and merely shook his head, waving with his hand, gesturing that it was okay. Sigurd didn’t press the issue, instead turning around and refocusing on cooking meat and cutting bread. A task Rick watched with bated breath, holding it in in hopes for breakfast.

Sitting down on the table, Rick saw something in the corner of his eye. Turning towards it he noted a block of wood carved sloppily and badly, like a toddler trying to mold clay, or a child building a sandcastle. With Rick’s expertise he noticed that the block of wood was supposed to become a carving of something, the carvings being too thought out to just be random. Sigurd noted Rick’s curiosity and supplied an answer.

“It’s Benji’s, he wanted to make a friend for the knight. But it seems he ran out of patience.”

Her last word punctuated with a smile, a smile that had forgotten the earlier redness. A smile that warmed Rick’s already hot body. The cold draft from the slightly agape door not even the slightest of burden, the cold mentioned by none.

The two ate in silence, one finishing quick, the other giggling from how ravenous the other ate. Silence being comforting, one smiling, the other smiling on the inside. Drinking tea, the two pondered in their own heads, both having pleasant thoughts. But eventually, reality came clashing, this time quite literally as the door swung open, revealing a boy and a knight, dirtied by an unknown adventure.

“Mom, I’m hungry!”

The boy declared, hands on his hips, the knight already having an influence on him, standing with the same pose on his shoulder. The mom smiled, gave the boy his breakfast and made him sit with the two adults, his feet swinging with untamed energy. Sigurd looked at her child, then cast a glance at the funny, yet warm, stranger, taking a deep breath before she spoke.

“Benji, I need to go to the city for a few days. The wonderful gentlemen here will take care of you during that time. Please be a good boy and show him around the village later. Oh yeah, don’t be a bother and listen to him-… ahem, I mean, make sure to not cause any trouble.”

The boy turned to speak, food shoveled in his mouth, full like a squirel.

“Okay mom, but how will dad take care of me when he can’t speak?”

“Benij! I told you, he’s not your dad! And it’ll be alright, he’s a grown adult who even managed to slay a monster. How many of your friend’s dads have done that?”

Benji went silent at that, a face full of thought and a hint of sadness. But the expression brightened quickly as he said.

“So he is my dad?”

“I’ve just sai- No wait! I didn’t mean it like that! Benji don’t pick and choose words like that!”

He giggled as his response; The knight looking up at him, face full of pride, like a father gazing at his son. Rick was also amused, even if it didn’t show on his face, even if he wanted it to show, even as the giggles subsided. Sigurd tried to look sharp, look mean, trying to instill a situation of seriousness, her smile breaking the weak façade, her redness too.

With a pat on Benji’s head and a wave at Rick, she headed out, only bringing a few things to her name, taking as little as possible, knowing the harshness of the big city. She headed for the center of the village, both for supplies and gossip, wanting to spread a few rumours of her own. She wanted to tell the village of her sons foul “friends” and their total lack of courage, a show of weakness sure to get a spanking from their parents, a thing Sigurd was counting on. But as she entered the village, talked to her neighbours and heard the rumours, the last thing on her mind was the cowardly boys. Instead, it was occupied by an creeping unease, an unease like the slowest of snakes crawling up her leg, knowing that it could bite at any second. She had heard a rumour about the sighting of a huge monster in the woods, new for these parts, terrorizing everyone, creating a chilly atmosphere in the village, talks of hiring monster hunters milling around.

Sigurd could do naught but ignore the rumours and push down the creeping doubt. She would have to put her trust in the toymaker, it was all she could do.