The white, blazing sun shines like a confident star when it's given the largest stage. It was always like that in the SMP. Everyone was used to the egotistical light that heated up their bodies like chicken in a microwave, but the dog wasn't. The light's heat oppresses his body and then sweat droplets crawl out of his pores and seep through his brown and dense and messy undercoat, soaking his leather shorts, shrinking them a bit just enough for them to choke his thighs, making him itch everywhere and then mock him for not being able to reach those itchy spots, especially in the most annoying places. Still, he lifts the heavy, small iron axe. Besides, the dark skinned, young woman in the window won't stop glaring at him through the dusty and slightly dirty window, her hand pressing against some paper against her polish desk while the other twirls a pen. She wears this brown, smooth-looking, leather tunic made from scratch Viking style. Her hair is dark brown and curly. It is short to where it only went to the bottom of the back of her head and even then it is faded as if she shaved some of it off to give herself a neat undercut. The dog turns away, but the dark-skinned woman's eyes are burning "I'm watching you" into the side of his furry face. He feels the axe as it drags him down. He navigates it over the log sitting on the stump. He stands tall on his hind legs, preparing for how tense his arm would become as his boyish, muscle tissues would do their best to lift the axe over the log. He remembers his training. The axe's sharp edge hovers. He takes a deep breath and lifts the axe up as high as he can, the sun's light reflecting off the metal and practically blinding him. Thwack!The log is split in half. Its splinters whooshed up into Timber's nostrils, filling them with the sweet smell of fresh bark. Neurons click together Images appear in his mind and sting his heart. He squeezes his eyelids together. Maw, What ya doing? Thwack! He brushes the halved log away with the axe's head. Timber, I need ya to stay put right here. Thwack! Another halved log gets brushed away. The iron axe sorely lifts. W-what in tarnation's goin' on? Thwack! Another halved log gets brushed away. . Now hush up and lend me yer ear, ya best stay put right here, don'cha know.Thwack!Thwack! More halved logs get brushed away, creating a small pile beside him. Maw, what in tarnation a-happenin'?! Thwack! Now you listen here, darlin'. Trust me, I reckon I'll be back for ya, I swear on ya pappy's grave. Thwack! I jest need y'all to stick 'round here. Thwack! Don't forget to hum that tune iffen ya git scared, ya hear! Thwack! Maw?! Thwack! MAW?! THWACK!
Timber gasps for the humid air as he stumbles from his chopping station. He lets the iron axe fall on the ground. It impales the soft and slightly muddy soil. Timber wipes the sweat dripping down his forehead with his paw. He stares at the crack he made in the stump. He could feel his shaking paw gravitating towards the heartwood and his fingers beginning to dance along its rays. He takes his snout and vacuums up its fresh and earthy scent. He squeezes his face, concocting images of his maw sitting in her wooden rocking chair, lulling him to sleep. A smile escapes from his lips.lifts his head back, letting the scent dispense into lungs. Huffing and puffing, he drags his weary body towards a nearby tree. Timber gives his heart some time to calm down as he watches white-tailed deer feasting on acorns, blue jays resting in oak trees, and Largemouth Bass hunting fish in a lake in the distance. Seeing those Largemouth Basses enjoying the waters makes his tongue crawl out of his mouth like a starving predator looking for its natural prey. He glances back at the small house that is held up by shaky and thick wooden beams, the walls, the roof, and the stairs made of wooden beams stacked horizontally. He peers through the window and smirks at the dark-skinned, young woman writing some notes in ink. Timber immediately lopes through the lush forest, twigs snapping, bushes rustling, the sunlight peeking in through the leaves, blue jays chirping. His paws skid in the muddy soil that made up the shore of the lake. He trots towards the water's edge, his toes tingling with excitement. His snout navigates the moist soil, letting all the silt and the minerals rub against it. As he stretches out his paw towards the soft looking water, he hears a splash in the distance. His head spikes up and he looks around frantically. His eyebrows curl down a bit. Alrighty then. He returns his snout to the soil. Whoosh! His eyes immediately glance back up again. A furry-looking fish with blue grey fur emerging from its white, scaly skin leaps out of the water and over the sun, zooming back down into the water, cutting the soft and wet surface with the most precise precision of its arms. He stumbles back, holding onto his chest with his clenching paw. Sweat droplets seep down his furry forehead, his pupils dilate out of his shiny, amber eyes, his heart racing with childlike excitement. He swallows the lump in his throat— Timber!
Great. Timber scurries back through the lush forest despite his heart needing a break, the lime-green leaves of the low branches bushing against his dense undercoat. His paws break hard through the grass as he arrives at his chopping station. Timber gathers all the chopped logs and trots off to the wooden hut. He stumbles around on his hind legs, trying to hold onto the halved logs. "What have I been telling you not to do?" A dark-skinned, middle-aged woman asked as she stood within the door frame, frowning. "Don't you ever stray beyond the holler of the house, now," Timber responds with so much boredom that the word boredom is practically being written in the air by his breath of annoyance. It is hard to take him seriously though as he is still stumbling on his hind legs to keep the chopped, wooden planks in his boyish, furry arms. "Unless?" The woman asked, leaning forward at his face while pinching down on her ear. "Less'n we gotta wet a line fer some vittles or water, that is." Timber replies, and then slips on his sweaty paws, completely falls over and on top of the halved logs, landing on his furry back. The woman bends down to help him gather all the fuel for the fire. "And?" She asked, desiring the final piece of her rule. He sighs, "You're standin' right here with me, you are." The woman gives him a little noogie, making his already messy tuft messier, smiling and saying in her baby voice, "Now that's a good boy." Timber pushes her hand away as he rolls his eyes. He continues to pick up logs with his calloused paws, complaining, "Lord have mercy, Maria, you keep tellin' me there's bluebellies out yonder lookin' for me, but ain't seen a bluebelly 'round these parts! I reckon we're sittin' pretty, darlin'." Maria throws some logs into the nearby furnace. "You mean Mom," She says, but not until she reels back the moment the fire decided to be aggressive and whooshed at her, even burned her leather dress a bit. " As I was saying," Maria begins, trying to recollect herself, "Of course there's cops out there. Of course you don't know because you've never seen them before. You've never met them before. You don't know them like I do. They're looking for boys like you. They see you as a threat to their safety. My people's safety. They are persistent when it comes to getting the job done, especially when it comes to boys like you. They won't rest until my people can rest." And then she yelps and jumps back again. The fire was now more hostile. She clamps over to Timber and squats down to his level, rubbing his furry shoulder and lecturing, "None of them can rest as long as you're somewhere and alive." She squeezes his shoulder, "I need you here and alive, remember?" Timber looks down at the gripping hand on his shoulder and whimpers a bit before smiling.
"Now, help me with all this fuel," Maria finishes as she picks up another halved log. Timber pouts, making sure to look away from Maria while he grabbed another half log. He felt a tiny prick on his little digit. "Ouch!" He exclaims. Maria's ears perk up. She rushes over and slides over like she's a baseball player trying to reach home base. She lifts up Timber's paw to examine the damage. "Yep it's a splinter," Maria thinks aloud, "I'll go make some more medicine." Timber sits in anticipation in front of the furnace, letting the fiery orange flames grasp his coarse face firmly. Thoughts begin to wander through his mind like a deer wandering through a forest. I ain't never laid eyes on a fish like that afore. Arms? Bluish fur? And it was so darn big it made a mighty splash. Could be enough grub to last fer weeks. Shoot! Why'd I run off? Man, if I ever laid eyes on that fish again, I'd wrestle it right barehanded. Maria comes back swirling a glass bottle full of this magenta looking liquid almost as bright as a ruby gemstone. She cups his injured paw in her hand, whispering, "This might hurt a bit" Timber yelps as he clenches the wooden floor within his other paw. Maria pours the liquid over the small, open wound. He watches as the tissues of the open wound seal up almost like a Ziploc bag, the last droplets of lime green blood seeping down. "All done," Maria cheers. Her hand reaches for Timber's furry tuft to rub playfully, but his head zips away. . "I'll just cook the fish then," she mutters. Maria clamps back to her busy bedroom filled with homemade titration stations and scattered papers.
Timber listens to the slightly faint sounds of wooden drawers and cabinets opening while he stomps his paws along the wooden ground in a circle until he finds the right spot to curl up. His struggles to relax its muscles against the hardness and caving in of the house's wooden plank floor. Well now, ought I to use the arm hook or the right hook to catch that large fish? I reckon the arm hook's the way to go. Yup, I fancy that. Hold on a minute…He sits up. Is 'em fish still out there, I wonder? He curls his brows as he picks himself up. If'n they ain't, I reckon I'll be real mad. Timber scoops the room. Maria's not here. He smiles. He trots slowly towards the open door, looking behind him every second. "Tim honey, I completely forgot we ran out of—" Maria begins to call out until she sees Timber's body is completely out the door. "Oh, did you already know?" She wonders. Timber turns around as if he was in a monster movie, and the monster had been stalking right behind him "Know about what?" He chuckles. "That we've officially run out of fish," Maria asks while glaring at him. Timber slurs, "Why yes, Maria, reckon I did." His eyes dart back and forth too. "And you were going to let me know that I should come with you, right?" Maria interrogates. "Right….nice," Timber nods and smiles, guilt still written all over his face.. "Alright," Maria says with her teeth grinding a bit. She creaks over to grab her iron pocket knife, the medicine, and fishing rod on her wooden workspace. "We might have to repair the boat by the ocean since you crashed it against the shore the last time," Maria rambles as she stuffs everything in a leather bag, including some now rubber patches, "Granted, you're a small boy who can't sweep an oar through a wave to save his life." She slings the leather bag over her shoulder. Her whole body stops in its tracks, her eyebrows lifting. The door is wide open with a few of its wooden hinges unscrewed, slanting it down. Timber had already trotted away and was probably darting through the tundra forest like a young school boy finally being able to play on the swings. "Wonderful," Maria exhales. She walks out the door, her materials clanking up and down in her leather bag.
Meanwhile, Timber relishes in the warmth of the sun on his face and the smell of the fresh summer breeze. With each paced step, he could feel twigs break, harsh soil dusting his paw pads, and insects cracking under his paws, but his eyes were in the water. He could feel saliva dripping from his muzzle, his hanging tongue scraping his outer lips. . He skids through the muddy soil towards the lake's edge. Timber brings his paw towards the surface of the water, and gets a feel for its softness with one dip. "Yeouch!" Timber howls as he quickly retracts it, shaking water droplets off his paw. The lake practically tried to burn his paw, but also felt soft, like a hug around every digit. He begins trotting away until he hears another splash. I'm not letting that fish get away. He tried easing his paw into the water this time. His boyish muscles tense as he feels the water's coldness hardening and pricking his paw. With tears of pain in his brown eyes, he eases his entire body into the water like he's getting into a swimming pool on a hot summer day. He turns his muzzle into an inflated balloon and doggy pals deeper and deeper underneath the surface. Prickles spread throughout his entire body. Alright ya little critter where are ya? He felt like he was floating on air paddling downwards. Particles of decaying matter swarm around his face and sting his eyes through the last tiny space their eyelids could muster. Water drowns his eye sockets enough to where they couldn't autofocus like they used to, but he kept swimming downwards, hoping that his remaining vision would be enough to scope out the cunning fish. Meanwhile, something is tickling his hind leg a bit. Where are ya little critter—? Suddenly, he stops. A slimy lasso grasps his hind leg like cattle.
Timber tries breaking free but the grip was as strong as a child not wanting to let go of his mother when they have to attend kindergarten for the first time. He starts frantically doggy paddling upwards, but he keeps getting lassoed back down as if he was prized cattle to be won. The surface becomes so out of reach that his paws relax back down. His doggy paddling becomes slower and slower and the water becomes heavier and heavier. "Maria!" Timber calls out, the balloon he formed in his mouth popping and air bubbles swarming all around him. Still, he is met with silence. He tries doggy paddling upwards again, hoping that his doglike strength could break the slimy lasso. And when that doesn't work, he opens his mouth to cry out for help again, but this time his scream is faint. Water enters his lungs like a dispenser pouring water into a cup. His consciousness starts slipping away as coloring dye disperses in water. With his last bit of strength, he tries reaching down and ripping the lasso off him, but the soft water hugs him and its warmth is irresistible. The lasso slips out of his furry hind leg. . His eyes slowly close. Vague visions of a feminine dog with patches of lighter, blue and grey fur swimming towards him like a tadpole became the only thing his eyes and his brain had the strength to come up with. She wraps her arms around Timber and drags him upwards, bubbles swarming around him until everything finally fades into darkness. I don't think Maria's coming….but I'm sure Maw will…she'll come back…How did that old song go again? Something like Hush a by...an'don't you cry, An'go to sleep….little baby…..When you wake…..you shall have some cake....An'ride a pretty little horsey. Timber begins to feel the muddy soil against his furry back again. His eyes instantly break open as he turns to his side to cough up and throw up water. As he coughed up the remaining water bits, he could feel a slimy and scaly hand against his furry shoulder.