The thud of a falling acorn caught Yoyo’s ear. He sat up, eyes open, still feeling on edge. Maybe he wouldn’t feel better that quickly. Maybe he might never feel comfortable around stones again. He wondered about these things as another acorn landed nearby.

Standing to survey the forest, Yoyo saw the smooth brown nut resting by several other acorns at the base of an oak tree. A black squirrel and a scrappy thrush were contesting ownership of a thin branch and the acorns were the victims of the quarrel. A third acorn fell to the ground with a thud.

While watching the squirrel balance easily on a branch thirty feet above the ground, Yoyo’s stomach growled. He had never eaten an acorn before but this seemed like a good time to start.

Beneath the oak tree, Yoyo shoved a small acorn into his mouth as if it was a cherry tomato. He bit down hard to burst it but the action hurt his teeth. Trying to swallow it whole proved even more disastrous—he nearly choked. Without another attempt, he spit it out.

Next he tried to eat a dried leaf. It was brittle and crunchy and stuck easily to his tongue. He chewed and swallowed a portion with an uneasy gulp. Then he placed a freshly fallen green leaf into his mouth. Its taste was plain and earthy. With effort he chewed it down but sadly his hunger remained.

He thought he’d try a twig that he found by the acorns. It looked like a pretzel rod in shape and size, but licking it was bitter and not at all like the foods his belly wanted. He would give anything for bright red raspberries or the creamy spread of a peanut butter sandwich.

The chirp of a bird was a welcome distraction. Then he heard tiny splashes of water along with more chirps. Small red-breasted birds had gathered to bathe and play in the forest stream.

Yoyo frowned at the splashing birds; his hunger brought terrible pain, even anger, and he held his belly. The stream offered him a direction to travel and Yoyo started to walk the winding water to find better sources of food.

The walk through the forest was unnerving and unpleasant. Gray stones were monsters waiting to form. To make matters worse, all the trees were now suspicious. He had no trust in nature as it was.

Chirping birds sang as they pleased and the squirrels danced in the branches. Yoyo avoided the large boulders covered in moss and wondered if tree giants could form as easily as ones made of stone.

The only thing that brought him comfort was imagining he was walking in the woods near his backyard, and on the other side he’d find the yummy snack left by Mom on the kitchen table.

A bush with red berries stood out in the brown and green blend of the forest. Hundreds of red berry clusters dangled from thin branches, each cluster looking shiny and delightful. Yoyo ran to the bush and grabbed fistfuls of berries with both hands. Smooth, round, red and wonderful, Yoyo shoved them into his mouth all at once.

“BLEH!”

His lips puckered and his tongue rejected; the tart berries sent his taste buds into a frenzy and Yoyo rubbed his shirt against his tongue to remove the offenders.

I need water!

Yoyo dashed to the stream, kneeling down to drink as the red juice of the berries stained the cloth of his shirt a pinkish-red.

He rinsed his mouth with hasty gulps and messy gargles. The water dripped off his chin and soaked him. He was wet but at least he could think clearly again.

No more wild berries, thought Yoyo. He sat on his heels and gathered himself.

The birds no longer chirped, appearing settled in the trees as the sunlight dimmed through the forest canopy. An odd haze formed in the dusk. It wafted through the trees, mysteriously swirling around the branches. It brought the hint of smoke.

Yoyo recognized the smell immediately, someone was cooking. He followed his nose away from the stream and toward the source of the haze.

White and wispy, the haze carried within it a full menu of flavors—and all of them delightful. James liked to say they were yummy tummy ticklers; delicious cozy smells that came from the oven when Mom was in the kitchen.

It smells just like home.

He imagined he was with Mom beside the oven. Sometimes she would let him help, and other times she let him lick the stirring spoon. He smiled as he pictured his Mom’s face and the way she helped him and the way she hugged him.

Walking slowly, Yoyo chased the haze up and over a hill dotted with trees of peeling bark. A neat pile of cut wood rested on the hill and a low stone wall boxed in a small house. An old goat grazed on leafy sprouts by the wall.

The white smoke rose from the narrow stone chimney of the house, then spread out to form the haze as it passed through the branches of birch and oak. The only thing that stood between him and the house was a wooden gate.

Yoyo’s belly roared like an angry lion as he tip-toed slowly to the stone wall. He carefully lifted the latch and let himself in. He was too hungry to ask for permission.

The goat continued munching as Yoyo walked by the animal. A girl in a dress swept inside the house with a knotty broom. She looked up, gasped, and held the broom to her chest.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Yoyo stopped and stood silent in his wet, stained shirt and dirty pants. He tried to form words but nothing came from his mouth. Instead, he bit down on a badly swollen lip and waited for her to shoo him away.

Her soft brown eyes had no hint of anger. She approached him with slow, cautious steps. Placing her broom on the ground, she held her arms out, hands open.

He felt a swell in his chest and rushed into her arms, falling into her with a hug that erased the pain. The sudden comfort brought him to tears, and as he buried his face into her shoulder, his emotions poured out.

She held him tighter. Never letting go.

“Oh Heavens…” whispered the girl. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

He could barely stand as he cried tears that soaked her shoulder, releasing everything he was holding in. It felt good. He found his footing.

She led him into the house.

“Sit down and rest,” said the girl. She had kind eyes and short brown hair that curled at her ears. She worked fast but didn’t hurry and she buttered a loaf of bread on a worktop near the fire.

“Will you try a piece?” the girl asked as she set the buttered loaf on the table, its color golden brown with dark swirls on the ends.

Yoyo sat in a wooden chair that seemed perfectly built for his size. He tore off a piece of the loaf, sinking his teeth into the warm bread, its buttery flavor better than anything he could have imagined. He shoved the entire piece into his mouth and used his hands to keep it there as he chewed.

The girl’s dress swayed above her bare feet as she fed another log to the fire. A black pot bubbled with cozy delights.

The smell made Yoyo’s tummy rumble and he tore off another portion of bread. He knew he’d never been here before but it felt just like home.

Crackling, the fire worked through a tidy arrangement of logs. Ornate candles hung on the walls, their flames painting the room in a pleasant orange light. The girl swirled the stew with an iron ladle. A wave of her hand spread the steam off the pot and she studied the contents inside.

“A few herbs will finish it,” she said with a smile.

Stepping to the window, she opened the curtains wide to reveal potted plants on the sill. Outside, the sunlight was fading and the dusk was ushering in the night. The candles flickered in a gentle wind. The girl plucked fresh leaves with each hand, returned to the bubbling pot to drop them, and then picked up a water bucket near the fire.

Yoyo munched another piece of bread as she sat down by his side.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

Yoyo looked down at the floor.

“Not ready to tell me yet, are you?”

I’m not and I might never.

She smiled politely, “It’s okay to be shy.”

He glanced up and studied her face. Up close she looked older, with wrinkles under her eyes and a few strands of gray hiding beneath her brown curls. Her features were soft and gentle.

“My name is Tena,” she said as she dabbed a damp rag on his cheeks. The water was warm. She tenderly washed away the dirt and ran her fingers through his hair to remove bits of leaves.

“I don't get many visitors. Can you tell me your name?” Tena wrung out the rag and cleaned his fingers.

“Yoyo.”

She smiled, different this time. Happier.

“OK Yoyo,” she said.

Yoyo finished the last of the buttered loaf. His belly no longer hurt. He smiled back.

Tena cleaned off the rest of his hands and when she was finished, she took the rag and bucket outside. The candles flames fought through a strong gust of wind. Through the open curtains, Yoyo saw an orange light appear on the far hill.

A burly man with a lumberjack’s axe and a lantern in hand weaved between the trees as he descended the hill toward the house. His beard full and black, his clothes disheveled and stained, the man appeared at the gate and set down his lantern. Tena’s bucket crashed to the ground.

“Maibben,” gasped Tena.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” laughed the man as he swaggered up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Four days you’ve been missing. I feared you were dead.”

“I stand before you alive and well, an axe dull from work and a coin purse twenty times richer.”

“And half of it spent on drink. I can smell it on your breath.” Tena pushed the man away from her. “Now fetch me some sticks before you step foot inside the house.”

“What for? There’s a fine stack right here.”

“No. It’s much too wet for burning.”

The man grunted. “The chimney puffs from a healthy fire.”

“Well in any case, I need more to keep it going.”

“You’re acting strange…”

“Maibben—stop!” Tena stepped backwards into the doorway and held out her arms.

The man pushed her aside and stomped into the house. He puffed out his barrel chest, eyes fierce, and wielded his axe with hands thick as lumber.

Yoyo dashed under the table.

“Come on out!” shouted the man.

“Don’t hurt him!” Tena pleaded.

There was a loud thump atop the table. The man paced the room, the floorboards creaking with each heavy step. Finally he stopped by the door.

Yoyo trembled.

“Strip him down and search for valuables,” the man snarled.

“Where are you going?” asked Tena.

“To light the burn pit.”

The man left but the tension stayed. The glow of the fire stained the floor red as Yoyo crawled out from under the table. He looked to Tena for answers.

The crackling fire did all the talking as Tena knelt silent by the door twirling knots in her dress.

Yoyo felt her eyes on him and backed away. His leg bumped the table. Panic set in.

Tena stretched out her arms. “Wait!”

Yoyo ran out the door. Thick smoke billowed in every direction. He coughed and couldn’t stop. The barrel chested man formed from the swirling smoke and trapped Yoyo against the stone. The darkness engulfed him. Everything went black.