Chapter Text
The sound of heavy, thudding footsteps stomp into the entrance of the barn, the frame of a tall figure stopping dead in the mud front of you. That same southern drawl croaks from their throat, deep and rumbly with the thunder.
"Jesus-"
You can't see their face from how dark the contrast of the sky is. Whoever it is, they seem astounded to find you. Your voice comes out as more of a pitiful tremble, tinged with the aftereffects of crying.
"P-... please. I'm sorry,"
You're not sure who you're apologizing to; yourself, your parents back home, or the poor farmer you'd dragged out here in pursuit of you. The shake of your arms is too bad to keep yourself upright, and you hide your head behind them.
"I'm so sorry..."
"What the hell happened to you, kid?"
After a moment of silence, the stranger speaks again, the dull thuds of their feet coming up to your side. They put a deathly cold hand on your back, kneeling down to get a better look at you.
"Yer half frozen to death-"
The touch makes you flinch, but there's not much you can do at the moment to scoot away. The stranger lifts their hand almost immediately, a tired sigh leaving their lips.
"Easy, there. I ain't gonna hurtcha. I promise."
For a voice so gruff, it's gentle as it chides you to calm down. You peek up at them from behind your arm, frustrated that you still can't see them. It's hard to miss the lit outline of their brow furrowing, though. Poor thing. She looks barely alive-
"Yer shakin' like a leaf. Here. Stayin' there on the ground is only gonna make it worse."
With that, a pair of arms come to wrap around you, pulling you up against something solid. Something slightly poky as well, but you're quickly shifted to a more comfortable spot. You barely have the energy to say anything anymore, leaning your head against the strangers shoulder. Is it just you, or are they even taller than you'd thought?
"Easy. There ya are, hun'. Just hold on."
Cradled as carefully as possible, you feel the large man start out of the barn and towards the farmhouse, catching a glimpse of it from behind some forgotten farming equipment and weeds that consume much of the property. It's not difficult from how high up you are. Strange. He's warm, but not at the same time. The itchy fabric of his arm brushes against your face every now and then, bringing some sensation back into it. Before long, the uneven rocking motion stops and you realize he's brought you up to the porch, it's splintered white steps creaking beneath his weight.
"Flock, you leave this girl alone. She don't need ya squawkin' in her ear."
Who? He pushes a worn out screen door open, loudly clicking it shut behind him with a rattle. There's another sudden change in the air, but it's less musty than the barn. It's warm. Cozy, even. What sounds like some sort of pet scurrying across the floor is followed by the strangers attempts to move past it, successfully setting you down on something soft.
"There ya are. Safe and sound. Can you hear me?"
You flutter open your half shut eyes, focus blurry from having almost passed out. It's much brighter in here, making it hard for your vision to adjust. But when it does, you find yourself staring at a blanket that had been placed over your trembling body.
"?"
Slowly but surely, your vision travels from the hand-knit fabric to the old sofa you lay on, shifting to the room around you. It looks old, unsurprisingly. Extremely old. The wallpaper is peeling in the corners and even in the middle of the walls, cracks in the windows covered up with torn up curtains and faded boards. What looks to be an open hallway to a kitchen is to your left, a wooden stairway going up next to it. Finally, your eyes settle on whoever is kneeling in front of you, the dull yellow burlap of their face taking a moment to register.
"..."
"...AHHHHHH-!!!"
You throw yourself back against the backrest cushions of the couch, panic flying across your features. What the hell is that thing-??? Your savior seems to panic as well, raising his gloved hands in front of him in surrender.
"Woa- Woah there! Hey, it's alright Miss! I don't mean ya any harm!"
He should have expected that reaction. He gets up and moves away from you, giving you more space while bumping into the coffee table in the process. It knocks an old radio off it, sending it crackling. What sounds like a shrill caw comes from the kitchen.
"Now, you stay in there! Lord have mercy-"
The man, or rather what looks like a scarecrow, picks up the radio and turns the dial, setting it back onto the coffee table when it goes quiet. You remain completely frozen against the couch, eyes wide and trained on the stitched and crudely drawn on features of his 'face'. He turns to you, softening his shoulders.
"I know. I'm not exactly the most friendly lookin' monstrosity you ever seen. But I promise you it's alright. The names Simon. Simon Lankmann."
Simon? It has a name? You take a shuddered breath, feeling your chest tighten with each one you forget to take. Your voice squeaks out of your throat, quiet as a mouse.
"What... what are you?"
The orange and black spine covered hay bag huffs out a large sigh, letting his uncannily long arms fall back down to his sides. The creepy looking tendrils hanging out of his mouth readjust themselves, and it's too late that you realize they're a second pair of arms.
"That's a tough one to answer, kid. I still don't really know myself, but... I'm what's called a Veldigun. A not so savory creature, I'm afraid. Somethin' I know you have a right to fear."
You're lucky he found you first and not some other brute of his kind. They'd have made you their dinner before you could say "uncle". He looks almost pained as he admits his terrifying appearance, coming over to settle himself in front of you again. To make himself a bit less intimidating. He doesn't need you dying of a heart attack as well.
"I understand. You're scared. But you're also too cold to afford refusin' help."
He gestures to your shaking limbs partially underneath the blanket you'd kicked aside, your gaze following.
"How did ya even end up all the way out here? This place is too far of a walk from any civilization for it to be an accident."
"I..."
You don't answer, starting to feel tears well up in your eyes again. Both from complete bewilderment and uncertainty of what you'd say. Simon's thick brow relaxes, and he pushes up against his knee, traveling somewhere else in the house. He returns with another few blankets, your eyes never drifting from him cautiously.
"Would it be alright if I place these on ya? You don't have to trust me, but I don't want to see you catch a nasty cold if ya haven't already."
Again, what choice do you have? You take a second before nodding ever so subtly, staring at your hands to avoid focusing on the cryptid that's helping you. He gingerly lays them over your small form, tucking them in just a little bit as not to be in your bubble too much. He hums gratefully.
"There we go, hun'. That'll warm ya right up."
He mumbles something about getting a fire going, his gaze landing on the blackened fire place before heading over to do so. In the meantime, your mind is completely lost, trying to make heads or tails of what's going on. A scarecrow. A walking, talking, living scarecrow found you and is now trying to keep you alive??? Every horror writer is spinning in their metaphorical graves. You poke your head over the couch, watching as he sets some dry firewood ablaze. That is, until something pokes at your foot.
"CLACK. CLACK."
Are you crazy, or is that a massive crow nipping at your mud-soaked boot? No, of course you're crazy. You've been crazy. Couldn't you tell? You've been crazy the moment you ran out into the storm. Staring down at its beady yellow eyes, it raises its head at you, making a tiny "CRAW" from deep in its long, striped neck.
"Simon?"
He looks up at your quiet call, giving a deep grumble at the sight.
"I thought I told you to shoo, ya feathered menace. Get!"
"CRAWWWW!"
The somehow melty looking bird caws defiantly at its master, evading his waving hands. He places them on his hips, what appears to be the expression of a tired parent on his features.
"Apologies. That'll be the Flock. He don't know what the word 'no' means."
You'd almost want to chuckle if you weren't in shock right now. You simply nod, eyeing the bird as it settles itself into its own nest of blankets with slight pity. So he must also be a Veldigun then? All of this new information is hurting your head. You watch from the corner of your eye as Simon comes to kneel beside you once more, his observant, empty gaze somehow reading as concerned.
"Mind my manners. I forgot to ask. What's your name, darlin'?"