Rick breathed in the cold refreshing air, letting it seep into his body through his nose. Feeling it tingling its way down his throat and into his warm chest. A wonderful feeling on an early, bright, sunny morning. Cave behind, legs buried in snow with his friend on one shoulder and a beast walking by his side. Walking in a way that he assumed a cat would walk once they found you more, acceptable.

Rick looked to Bob, meeting a waving smile. Turning to the other, he saw one red eye staring out into the white landscape beyond, blinking with its many eyelids. A cloven tongue reaching out, ears flickering to and fro. It noticed Rick staring, turning to him, meeting his gaze. A gaze Rick quickly averted, looking back out at the pristine white landscape. Memories of uncontrollable tears making his cheek warm in a soft red glow.

A soundless cough and another sharp intake of air was enough to reset Rick’s brain, bringing it back to the task at hand. A task that was long overdue, a task that might be harder considering the extra member. A task harder for the extra mouth. Food already scarce, hopefully not too scarce.

Looking up, Rick searched the treetops for the blinding circle, finding it slowly, giving him a direction to walk, a destination to find, and took his first steps. A journey of many starts with one. A journey of far starts small. A journey of endless roads starts with the first.

The little beast strolled easily besides Rick, sometimes flickering its tongue as it seemed to pick out scents in the air. Bob singing soundlessly to a noiseless tune, wagging back and forth. Rick focusing his mind to the rhythm of his steps, mind non-tuned to thinking, focused as it was.

Time passing like that, slowly, but surely. Trees of big and small being crossed. Clouds drifting like slowly snoozing animals. Crunches of snow like the backdrop of a quiet orchestra. Steps like painting the white landscape, scraped behind the big brush that was Rick and his smaller companion. Sun stretching its warm light from one end to another.

Time in an endless stream. Never to stop for anything.

As Rick found the sun growing awfully dim, he quickly motioned for the little beast to stop. A particularly tricky task as it didn't seem that interested in listening to him. Or rather, stop to watch him. But eventually it seemed to relent, stopping after many confused hand-signals, and then set out to build a makeshift little camp for their small group. A camp filled with fire and shelter.

A task that bled well into the dark of night but finished just in time to enjoy the moment between wakefulness and sleep.

Tired yawn escaped Rick’s mouth as he swallowed his piece of jerky. The little beast staring greedily at his lips by his side, seeming frustrated to not have been given more meat. It flickered its tail in a hasty motion as it moved to the opposite side of the fire away from Rick, lying awfully close to the fire, burningly close, giving Rick one last glare before closing its eyes.

Rick stared at it. Little else to do before sleep would take him. Mind now not focused on the road, not on the trees, not on the beautiful landscape. Left alone to think on anything it fancied thinking about. Mind wandering like it always did, never giving Rick a moment of respite, always churning out questions upon questions. Memories upon memories better left unremembered.

But this night, his mind wasn’t cruel, instead, it was scheming. It gave him the idea, the thought, the realisation that Rick was unprotected. Mind flashing images of the little beast once being a terrifying monster, ready to gobble him up. And Rick truly realized that he was very much exposed in this vast snowy landscape.

Yes, he had his axe. An axe he could not carry or the little beast would look frightened, scared, tiny. And had therefore, stored it within his pack, making it hard to get out in the heat of a fight.

So, his mind asked him, what could he do to protect himself. His mind, scheming as it was, gave him the memory of the robed man, Abigail’s robed man, and the heat he had released upon the chains confiding Rick and Abigail. Making Rick wonder how it was possible. How it was possible that Rick had created such a man with impossible powers, with magic. A miracle disguised in a wooden robe.

A miracle that, if he had as help, could protect him out in these woods.

Then he remembered the knight, Benji’s friend, and saw within his minds-eye blinding silver light. Unharmful to him, but not to the monster.

The warrior in wood, from small to big, growing stronger than anything or anyone he’d ever met before within the span of a second, also crossed his mind.

Then came Bob, and his miracle healing.

All this came to his mind, and Rick had to take a deep breath. For it almost felt too much. It was too much, making his breathing feel heavy within his chest.

His mind gave him much to think about, having postponed it for too long, knowing that now was the time, time to use this information for good, for himself, for his protection.

But how could he use this information? Was what Rick thought.

Yes, he knew that he’d created all of them. But how, and why, had they gotten their miracle powers? How would- could Rick recreate it? They were, after all, miracles made not from reasoning, but feeling.

He hadn’t made them with the thought to give them power.

Or had he?

He unconsciously leaned closer towards the fire in front as he remembered his thinking while he had created the warrior in wood. He remembered wanting, needing someone strong, strong enough to face a monster.

He remembered his thinking as he was stuck underground with Abigail, staring at the robed man, needing someone with powers hidden underneath his robe.

He remembered his thinking as he sat by the cold stream, staring at the knight and his shining visage.

He remembered all of them so well, remembered how much life he had given each of them, realizing that that had to be the key to his puzzle.

But then, he remembered Bob.

He remembered carving him, small as he was, down by trees that did not exist here, with tools made of bone and love. Laughter and joy filling his little body. Carving Bob as a present to his master.

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Remembering imprinting the rune of life a long, long time after first creating him. A rune learned by the only foreign man that had ever tried to understand him.

Bob could heal, that much Rick understood. But how? And why? His other statues seemed to get the powers Rick thought they had, or something like that. But Bob just seemed to be capable of, healing. Through no reasons of his own.

Then he remembered another statue he had made. A statue small and petite, a princess of the highest caliber. A princess that had no powers, even though it desperately needed them. Powers that if she had had, could have made Rick a savior instead of a wanted criminal.

She would have saved a little girl.

So, why hadn’t she had powers?

The key Rick thought he held, slipped from his grasp as his quickly formed theory was poked full of circumstantial holes.

But while he thought about the princess, he remembered another peculiarity. Remembering how she seemed to go against how his statues usually acted. Going against how they should act.

His statues, once given “life”, were but mere imitations of it. Only capable of learning actions taught by him. They could act like life, for Rick taught them that. He had to, for if he did not, he would be alone. He needed his statues.

But the princess had acted, not like a statue, but like the princess she was. She had scrambled through the woods in search of Rick, guiding him in a way he hadn’t taught her. Then, without his guiding, attacked the grotesque monster with an army of statues following her.

Rick felt his breathing increase in volume, in size and power. It wasn’t enough to quell the deepening weight in his chest.

His mind then gave him Bob, and the memory of him, defying, him.

That shouldn’t be possible. Just like his powers shouldn’t. Just like the amount of life Rick had within himself.

Rick jerked to the side, searching for Bob, spotting him lying by the beast, curling up around him.

Rick motioned to move, to stand. Breathing heavy and ragged, quick and uneven. Soundless, but overwhelming.

What was going on, what was happening, why was this happening?

Rick didn’t understand anything, his world that was already turned upside down, was now being drowned in uncertainty and the unknown. And the slight, slight feeling of glee.

For to him, it seemed like his long-long quest for companionship, the quest to give his statues actual life, was coming to an end.

Everything else was pushed aside as he realized this, staring wide eyed at Bob. A small part of his mind trying to refocus him on the task of security, of safety. Easily pushed aside by the longing for friendship, for actual understanding.

He crawled towards Bob, fire sparkling dangerously close, heat uncomfortably warm, not even crossing Ricks mind.

The beast stirred at the suddenly shaking ground, opening its eyes to spot the disturbance. A mild bout of panic crossing its mind as it spotted Rick crawling towards it. But instead of listening to the panic, it quelled it, and waited. Quelling its instinct even further as Rick reached his hand towards it. It didn’t really understand why it was doing what it was doing, but it somehow wanted, needed to trust Rick.

Rick didn’t even realise he had woken the beast as his hand reached for Bob, nothing else could occupy his mind at the moment, not even the fear of losing a hand, or scaring a little beast.

Grabbing Bob, he woke up with a start, staring around with groggy eyes, trying to decipher the sudden awakening. Upon spotting Rick, he smiled and reached his hands forward. Rick staring neutrally at him, but his mind being anything but neutral.

His mind was a maelstrom, a hurricane, a thunderstorm. Rick had grabbed Bob to know. Rick needed to know if Bob was well and truly, alive.

But how would he know, how could he find out? His usual test to see if his statues understood without being taught couldn’t be used on Bob. Bob had a lifetime of training under his belt, having been taught by Rick throughout his life. A lifetime of knowledge that could be drawn upon to seem alive.

Then what. What could Rick do, how could Rick test, prove that Bob was alive?

His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts, straining against strain to figure out an answer. Like angry politicians screaming at one another, like monster fighting amongst themselves.

But through the chaos, a single shining thought came from the depths.

It reminded him that life, always fought to stay alive. Rick knew that very well.

But how could Rick test that on Bob? He couldn’t just tell him to kill himself.

Or could he.

He could, he had never done it to any of his statues before. But as they always, always listened to him, he could do it.

He stared at Bob in horror, then at the fire, wondering how he could ever think that. How he could ever think of endangering his friend, his oldest friend. No matter if he was alive or “alive”.

But like always, his mind caught up with his feeling, easing his guilt, his shame. Giving him an option, the option that he would just need to order him to go into the fire. And if, if Bob actually did, he could quickly grab him before he was actually burnt. A test that had no negatives.

And Rick had to agree, albeit hesitantly. Normally, he’d never do it. But the thought that his statues, that Bob was actually alive, was too intoxicating to ignore. A quest he thought he’d never complete was but at his fingertips.

He dwelled on it for naught but a second, deciding that his mind was right, he could just grab him before he actually entered the fire.

His focus returned to Bob, swaying within his grasp, staring back at Rick with confusion painted on his face. His uneven feet waving underneath his bulky body, hands resting on top of Rick’s, head slanted to the side.

Rick gulped, then put Bob down on the ground. He breathed in, icy winds flowing down his throat, unevenly as Rick found he couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. Bob staying still, looking up at Rick, waiting for his strange behaviour to subside.

Rick took a moment, then turned down, starting to mime. Miming quickly, for he didn’t need many gestures. Pointing once, twice, thrice, then using two figures to mimic walking.

Bob quickly understood, and turned to see where he was supposed to walk, seeing a huge fire sprawled out before him. Maybe twice his size, thrice even. He turned back, looking at Rick for confirmation, seeing an uncertain nod.

Bob turned back to the fire and gulped soundlessly in hesitation. He took an uneasy step forward, then turned around to look at Rick again, wondering if this was really what he wanted. Staring up at Rick, Rick hesitated. But he nodded again, slower this time. And Bob turned back to the fire.

Bob was feeling, scared. Fire was scary. Fire burned things, things like wood. Bob was made out of wood. Fire would burn him. Yet, Rick wanted him to walk into the fire. That meant Rick wanted Bob to burn. Why did he want that?

Bob did not know.

Bob took two more steps towards the fire, flames almost licking his body, dangerously close. And stopped, yet again, turning around to look at Rick. Rick staring back at him, staring expectantly. Eyes wide, mouth neutral, leaning forward as if he was waiting for something.

To Bob, Rick looked so, excited. Bob really didn’t understand why Rick wanted him to walk into the fire, but he seemed excited about it, too excited. Who was Bob to deny Rick his excitement, if Bob could do it, he’d do anything for Rick.

Turning back towards the fire, Bob took a determined step, flames licking his eyes. Warmth unknown to him was growing sweltering hot. Soon, he’d be on fire. Soon, he’d be a part of it.

Rick felt great grief at what he saw. Guilt mixed in with disappointment flashed in his mind, bending down quickly to snatch Bob out of the fire’s clutches.

Bob surprised him though, turning around again, eyes closed and mouth wide, looking as if he was crying. Running towards Rick as his arms flayed forward, reaching for what looked like a hug. Rick paused upon seeing that, mind freezing, body stopped in time.

Bob stopped and reached for Rick’s hands, crying his lungs out, soundlessly. Jumping up and down, searching for his creator’s forgiveness.

Rick just stared, mind having a hard time deciphering, understanding.

Standing perfectly still. Time like ale poured down a too big glass.

But as it slowly churned into action, like a wagon finally gaining traction in the thick mud, a smile breached Rick’s neutral face. Bob seeing and paused at the sight, stopping his crying. Then yelping soundlessly as Rick grabbed him in a wide motion, bringing him up and into a tight embrace.

Suddenly, his world started spinning. He managed to wiggle his head out of the grasp, looking around for explanation. Realising that Rick was spinning, spinning in circles, holding him close to his chest.

Managing to wiggle further, he caught a glimpse of Rick’s face. Seeing laughter louder than any word.

Spinning in circles, laughing soundlessly like the happiest little girl.

And Bob laughed back, even if he didn’t understand why.

The little beast watching, not quite sure what was going on.