They Picked Me

The forest had changed.

Limbo knew it before he knew why.

The trail wasn't wrong.

The trees weren't wrong.

The silence was.

Birdsong had thinned until only the wind remained. Branches bent where they shouldn't. Fresh footprints crossed old animal paths without any attempt to hide themselves.

Someone had been moving through here.

A lot of someones.

Limbo slowed.

The others nearly walked into him.

"What is it?" Tess whispered.

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he crouched beside a boot print pressed deep into the damp earth.

Too narrow for a hunting boot.

Too long for a child.

Barely any weight behind it.

"...They've been traveling."

Clint looked around.

"Who?"

Limbo stood.

His eyes climbed the trees.

Then stopped.

A strip of red fluttered overhead.

Party streamer.

Another hung farther down the trail.

Yellow.

Blue.

Green.

They danced gently in the breeze.

Blaine smiled.

"...Weird."

He stepped toward the nearest one.

His fingers reached out.

"DON'T TOUCH."

Limbo's voice cracked through the woods like a rifle shot.

Blaine jerked backward.

Everyone froze.

Limbo didn't take his eyes off the streamer.

Slowly...

he looked deeper into the forest.

More ribbons.

More lanterns.

Someone had decorated the woods.

"No..."

he muttered.

Clint frowned.

"What?"

Limbo's jaw tightened.

"This isn't their ground."

Nobody spoke.

"They've moved."

He scanned the trees one more time.

"...Something brought them here."

No one asked who.

Because they already knew the answer would be worse than the question.

"Stay close," Limbo said quietly.

"And whatever happens..."

His eyes settled on Blaine.

"...don't let them choose you."

Blaine laughed nervously.

"Choose me for what?"

Limbo didn't answer.

He simply started walking.

The others followed.

Into the clearing.

The clearing looked...

pleasant.

A dozen long wooden tables stretched beneath strings of lanterns swaying gently between the blue-leafed branches.

Someone had laid white cloth across each table.

Wildflowers filled old glass bottles.

Music drifted lazily through the trees.

Not from speakers.

A fiddle.

Soft.

Patient.

Almost cheerful.

Thin figures moved quietly through the decorations.

One adjusted a lantern.

Another swept the path with a handmade broom.

Two more carried baskets overflowing with apples and late-summer vegetables.

Nobody looked at them.

Not at first.

Clint frowned.

"...This isn't what I was expecting."

"It should be," Limbo answered.

"What?"

He didn't reply.

The figures were wrong.

Too tall.

Too thin.

Their clothes hung in faded strips from narrow shoulders.

Homespun shirts.

Frayed jackets.

Long skirts patched together from mismatched fabrics.

Every face was hidden behind a carved wooden mask.

Not flat masks.

Faces.

Smooth wooden faces stretched impossibly tight over heads that seemed just a little too large beneath them.

The grain in the wood flowed where wrinkles should have been.

The mouths had been carved into gentle smiles.

Nobody spoke.

One of the figures stirred a cast-iron pot hanging over the fire.

Another carefully arranged fresh bread into neat little rows.

A child—at least Limbo thought it was a child—chased another between the tables before both disappeared behind a wagon draped in ribbons.

It looked...

normal.

Too normal.

Limbo hated normal.

His hand settled quietly on the handle of his axe.

Still...

no one paid them any attention.

"We could just leave," Tess whispered.

"I'd like that," Clint muttered.

They started backing away.

Then...

Blaine stepped into the clearing.

Every sound stopped.

The fiddle.

The broom.

The laughter.

The stirring spoon.

Every wooden face turned toward him.

All at once.

No hurry.

No surprise.

Like sunflowers finding the morning sun.

Blaine froze.

"...Uh..."

One of the masked figures slowly lowered the basket in its hands.

Another set the broom against a tree.

A third wiped flour from weathered fingers onto a faded apron.

Then...

from the largest table...

someone stood.

He was taller than the others.

His patchwork coat reached almost to the ground.

A necklace of dried seed pods rattled softly against his chest as he walked.

His mask was beautifully carved.

Older.

Darker.

The smile deeper than the rest.

He spread his arms.

"Welcome."

His voice was warm enough to melt butter.

"I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

Blaine looked over his shoulder.

"...Me?"

The figure chuckled.

"Of course you."

He looked briefly at the others.

"Oh..."

"You brought guests."

Like an afterthought.

His attention returned immediately to Blaine.

"There you are."

Limbo took one slow step forward.

"It's Harvest Moon, isn't it, Rep?"

The masked figure inclined his head.

"You remember."

"I remember enough."

Rep-Pep sighed contentedly.

"No need for such hostilities when a party is commencing."

His hand swept across the clearing.

"Everything's ready."

He looked at Blaine with unmistakable delight.

"Our guest of honor has finally arrived."

Every Hollow Folk member began smiling.

Not with their masks.

With their voices.

Soft laughter drifted across the clearing.

Whispers.

"There he is..."

"So ripe..."

"Beautiful..."

"Right on time..."

Blaine's cheeks reddened.

Nobody had ever looked at him like this.

Nobody had ever sounded...

happy...

that he'd arrived.

Limbo's hands tightened into fists.

He never took his eyes off Rep-Pep.

"Blaine."

"Yeah?"

"Come stand beside me."

Blaine hesitated.

"...Why?"

Rep-Pep answered for him.

"Oh, let the boy breathe."

His voice remained perfectly pleasant.

"We've waited ever so long to meet him."

And one by one...

the Hollow Folk began walking toward Blaine.

They approached as though greeting an old friend.

Not one of them hurried.

Not one reached for a weapon.

An old woman in a faded bonnet stopped first.

She was scarcely heavier than the broom she'd been carrying.

Her wooden mask tilted gently as she looked Blaine over.

"My..."

she breathed.

"What lovely eyes."

Blaine blinked.

"...Thanks."

She reached out.

Not to grab him.

To straighten the collar of his dress shirt.

"There."

"Much better."

She stepped aside.

Another Hollow Folk took her place.

A broad-shouldered man with a carved oak mask.

He circled Blaine once.

Slowly.

Hands clasped behind his back.

"Hmm."

He pressed two fingers lightly against Blaine's upper arm.

"Firm."

He nodded approvingly.

"Very nice."

Blaine laughed awkwardly.

"I've... uh..."

"I've been trying to lose weight."

The Hollow Folk looked confused.

Rep-Pep chuckled warmly.

"Oh, child."

"There'd be nothing to gain from that."

Another stepped forward.

She gently lifted Blaine's chin.

Turned his face toward the light.

"Wonderful color."

A third leaned close enough to inspect his hair.

"Healthy."

Another lightly patted his shoulder.

"A little bruised..."

He glanced knowingly toward the others.

"...but aren't we all?"

Soft laughter rippled through the clearing.

Not mocking.

Understanding.

Blaine laughed with them.

For perhaps the first time in years...

he wasn't being laughed at.

He was part of the joke.

Tess shifted uneasily beside Limbo.

"...Why are they talking about him like that?"

"They aren't talking to him."

Limbo's eyes never left Rep-Pep.

"They're talking about him."

Rep-Pep nodded proudly.

"A fine observation."

He gestured toward Blaine as though presenting a prize-winning pumpkin at the county fair.

"Come."

"You all must see."

One by one they gathered around.

One knocked gently against Blaine's shoulder with a curled knuckle.

"Hear that?"

Another nodded.

"Solid."

A third crouched unexpectedly.

He examined Blaine's boots.

Then looked up at Rep-Pep.

"Good roots."

Rep-Pep smiled.

"I thought so too."

Blaine looked around, grinning despite himself.

"I... I don't even know your names."

"No?"

Rep-Pep sounded almost surprised.

"My apologies."

He rested a hand over his chest.

"I am Rep-Pep."

He motioned to the old woman.

"Tl-As."

The broad man bowed slightly.

"Akir-Pap."

Others nodded as they were introduced.

"Rev-Olc."

"Cil-Arg."

"Noi-No."

Names that sounded almost familiar...

without ever becoming recognizable.

Rep-Pep spread his arms.

"And today..."

"...they've all come to celebrate you."

Blaine's smile faltered.

"...Me?"

"Of course."

Rep-Pep sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Who else?"

The question struck Blaine harder than any compliment.

Who else?

Nobody.

There had never been anyone else.

Rep-Pep stepped closer.

Close enough that only Blaine could hear.

"We've been waiting for someone like you."

Limbo moved.

Just one step.

The Hollow Folk stopped smiling.

Not angrily.

Cautiously.

Rep-Pep looked over Blaine's shoulder.

"I wouldn't."

Limbo ignored him.

"Blaine."

His voice was low.

"Come here."

Blaine looked between them.

"I..."

Rep-Pep laid a gentle hand against Blaine's back.

Not pushing.

Simply...

there.

"You've spent your whole life following other people."

His voice remained impossibly kind.

"You must be tired."

Blaine's smile disappeared.

Rep-Pep continued.

"Always trying to catch up."

"Always wondering if they'd notice when you weren't there."

Blaine lowered his eyes.

The Hollow Folk grew very quiet.

"You don't have to chase anyone anymore."

Rep-Pep looked around the clearing.

"...You've already come home."

No one cheered.

No one applauded.

They simply nodded.

As though acknowledging something everyone else had somehow missed.

Limbo felt his stomach drop.

He'd heard those words before.

Not those exact words.

The meaning.

The promise.

Come with me.

I'll take care of you.

You won't be alone anymore.

Eliot.

For one impossible second...

he saw a frightened boy in oversized mittens standing where Blaine stood now.

Then the vision was gone.

Rep-Pep's wooden smile turned toward him.

"You understand, don't you?"

Limbo's answer came almost as a whisper.

"...Better than you know."

Tess edged closer to Limbo.

"They're just talking."

"No."

"They haven't threatened anyone."

"No."

"They haven't even—"

"They're harvesting."

The word settled over the clearing.

Rep-Pep inclined his head.

"A harsh word."

"It's an honest one."

Rep-Pep considered that.

"...Perhaps."

He turned back to Blaine.

"Come."

"We've prepared a place for you."

Two Hollow Folk hurried away.

They returned carrying a beautifully carved wooden chair.

Not a throne.

Not quite.

Something between a dining chair and a place of honor.

They set it at the head of the longest table.

One carefully brushed invisible dust from the seat.

Another adjusted it so it faced the Harvest Moon.

Rep-Pep smiled.

"There."

"Perfect."

Blaine stared.

"...For me?"

Rep-Pep looked almost offended.

"Who else?"

A little Hollow Folk child tugged gently at Blaine's sleeve.

"I saved you a place."

Another offered him a woven flower crown.

"We made this."

An elderly woman unfolded a hand-stitched quilt across the back of the chair.

"So you won't get cold."

The kindness was unbearable.

Blaine's eyes shimmered.

Nobody had...

ever...

prepared anything for him.

Not like this.

Not because they wanted him there.

Limbo stepped forward.

"Blaine."

The boy didn't answer.

"Blaine."

"I hear you."

"Then listen."

Blaine finally looked over.

His smile had become something smaller.

Something younger.

"They... like me."

Limbo swallowed.

"I know."

"No."

Blaine shook his head.

"You don't."

"They actually like me."

"They don't know you."

"They don't have to."

"They do."

Rep-Pep watched silently.

Patiently.

As though he'd seen this conversation a hundred times.

Because he had.

Limbo looked from Blaine...

to the chair...

to the smiling wooden masks.

His chest tightened.

"They're not inviting you to dinner."

Blaine laughed.

"They literally are."

"No."

"They're setting the table."

"I know."

"They're setting the table for you."

"I know."

"They're setting the table..."

Limbo's voice cracked.

"...with you."

The smile slowly left Blaine's face.

Rep-Pep sighed.

"You're so dramatic."

Limbo ignored him.

"Blaine."

"Look around."

"The streamers."

"The tables."

"The masks."

"None of this is for you."

"It is because of you."

Rep-Pep's head tilted.

"A distinction without much difference."

"It matters."

"It matters very much."

For the first time...

Rep-Pep's pleasant voice cooled.

"It only matters..."

"...to those who leave hungry."

Silence.

The Hollow Folk lowered their heads.

Not in shame.

In remembrance.

Rep-Pep looked toward the moon.

"When was the last time you were full, Limbo?"

No answer.

Rep-Pep nodded.

"I thought so."

His hand rested lightly against Blaine's shoulder.

"We remember."

"The first taste..."

His voice became almost reverent.

"...is like rain."

The Hollow Folk closed their eyes.

"The second..."

"...less so."

Rep-Pep opened his eyes again.

A sadness lived inside them that even the mask couldn't hide.

"After that..."

He smiled.

"...we can only smell the water."

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Even the wind had stopped.

Rep-Pep looked lovingly at Blaine.

"But tonight..."

"...tonight we shall remember the rain."

Every Hollow Folk whispered together.

"Amen."

Limbo flexed his fingers from fist to open and back again.

He understood now.

Not the curse.

The hope.

That was the curse.

Every Harvest Moon...

they believed this one would finally satisfy them.

Every Harvest Moon...

they were wrong.

And every Harvest Moon...

they found someone new...

ripe enough...

to believe them.

Rep-Pep looked at Blaine for a long, quiet moment.

"You've carried loneliness a very long way."

Blaine looked down.

"...Yeah."

"You don't have to carry it anymore."

"I know."

"No."

Rep-Pep stepped closer.

"You don't."

His voice was so gentle it almost hurt.

"We will."

The Hollow Folk nodded.

"We all carry one another."

Blaine smiled.

"...Really?"

"Always."

Rep-Pep looked around the clearing.

"Have you ever wondered why we're so thin?"

Blaine blinked.

"I..."

"We've given everything."

The words sounded almost holy.

"Everything except what matters."

Rep-Pep reached up.

Slowly...

his fingers found the leather cords behind his head.

Limbo's heart stopped.

"No."

The cords loosened.

"Rep."

The mask lifted.

"REP!"

Wood peeled away.

Beneath...

a face forgotten by life.

Skin clung to bone like paper left too long beneath the sun.

His eyes had shriveled into dark knots buried deep in their hollows.

When he breathed...

his cheeks barely moved.

Then...

he smiled.

His tongue slipped across cracked lips.

Purple.

Soft.

The color of a bruised plum.

Blaine recoiled.

Only a step.

Rep-Pep noticed.

The hurt on his face was almost childlike.

"...I'm sorry."

He lowered his eyes.

"I know."

"It can be difficult."

One by one...

the others untied their masks.

Wooden smiles came away.

Every face beneath looked...

unfinished.

Not dead.

Not alive.

Simply...

emptied.

Like scarecrows that had once been people.

No flesh wasted.

Nothing extra.

Only enough remained to remember they had once been whole.

Tess covered her mouth.

"Oh..."

Clint whispered something under his breath.

Sloane couldn't look away.

Rep-Pep met Blaine's frightened eyes.

"This..."

He touched his own hollow cheek.

"...isn't what we were."

His voice trembled.

"It is what became of us."

"We thought one harvest would be enough."

Another Hollow Folk nodded.

"It almost was."

"We thought another..."

"...would finish the work."

A third spoke.

"So close."

Rep-Pep smiled sadly.

"For one beautiful moment..."

"I remembered my mother's laugh."

Another whispered, "I remembered warmth."

"I remembered bread."

"I remembered dancing."

"I remembered my wife's face."

The voices drifted through the clearing like autumn leaves.

Fragments.

Pieces.

Moments.

None of them lasted.

Rep-Pep looked toward the Harvest Moon.

"They always leave."

"The warmth."

"The laughter."

"The fullness."

"They leave..."

"...before dawn."

His eyes found Blaine again.

"But every Harvest Moon..."

Hope returned to his ruined face.

"...we believe."

Limbo closed his eyes.

He'd seen that expression before.

Not on monsters.

On fathers.

On addicts.

On mourners.

On himself.

Hope refusing to die...

even after it should have.

Rep-Pep reached out his hand.

Not commanding.

Inviting.

"Come."

"We've saved your place."

Blaine stared at the offered hand.

Then...

very slowly...

he reached toward it.

"BLAINE!"

Limbo's shout shook the lanterns.

Blaine flinched.

His fingers stopped inches away from Rep-Pep's.

Limbo took another step.

"Don't."

"You don't know what they're asking."

Blaine looked at him.

Tears welled in his eyes.

"No..."

His voice broke.

"You don't."

"They picked me."

The words landed harder than any blade.

"They picked..."

"...me."

Everything Limbo wanted to say...

died.

Because he understood.

Not the Hollow Folk.

Blaine.

He wasn't reaching for monsters.

He was reaching for the first people who had ever made him feel like he mattered.

And that was exactly what made this impossible.

Limbo took one slow step forward.

Rep-Pep didn't move.

Neither did the Hollow Folk.

Only their eyes followed him.

"Blaine."

The young man didn't answer.

His gaze remained fixed on the hand waiting patiently for his own.

"Blaine."

This time...

he looked.

Limbo saw it immediately.

Hope.

Real hope.

It had been a long time since he'd seen that look on anyone.

"You think they see you."

Blaine nodded.

"They do."

"They see what they need."

"So do you."

Limbo's voice caught.

"No."

"They don't know your favorite color."

Blaine frowned.

"They don't know how you laugh when you're embarrassed."

"They don't know you snore."

Clint blinked.

"...You snore?"

Blaine ignored him.

"They don't know the songs you hum when you think nobody's listening."

"They don't know the names of your parents."

"They don't know who you were before today."

Rep-Pep answered quietly.

"No."

"We know who he could become."

Limbo's eyes never left Blaine.

"That's the lie."

Silence.

"You don't become one of them."

"You become..."

He looked at Rep-Pep's uncovered face.

"...what's left."

Rep-Pep bowed his head.

"As do all things."

"No."

"As do all hungry things."

Rep-Pep smiled sadly.

"There is no difference."

Limbo shook his head.

"There is."

He looked at Blaine.

"Son..."

The word escaped before he could stop it.

The clearing became perfectly still.

Blaine's eyes widened.

Limbo closed his own.

"...Sorry."

"I didn't..."

His throat tightened.

"I had a boy."

No one spoke.

"He would've been about your age."

Blaine stared.

Limbo looked up again.

"I couldn't save him."

The words hurt less than they had yesterday.

More than they would tomorrow.

"But I can still tell you this."

He pointed toward Rep-Pep.

"They don't love you."

"They love your emptiness."

Rep-Pep's smile finally disappeared.

"They believe if they take what's inside you..."

"...they'll fill what's missing inside themselves."

"They won't."

"They can't."

"They'll only make you hungry too."

A long silence settled over the clearing.

Blaine looked at the Hollow Folk.

Then at Limbo.

Then back again.

"They..."

His voice cracked.

"They made me a place."

Limbo nodded.

"I know."

"They've been waiting for me."

"I know."

"They..."

His shoulders trembled.

"...picked me."

Limbo felt something inside him break.

Not because Blaine was wrong.

Because he understood.

So had Eliot.

Different words.

Same wound.

He lowered his axe.

Not in surrender.

In grief.

"I can't make this choice for you."

Tess caught his arm.

“We can’t leave him.”

“He has to leave them.”

“Then make him.”

Limbo watched Blaine staring at the place they had prepared for him.

“I could drag him out of this clearing.” His voice softened. “But I can’t make him walk away.”

Rep-Pep slowly offered his hand once more.

No smile.

No triumph.

Only quiet hope.

Blaine looked at it.

Looked back at Limbo.

Then...

he took Rep-Pep's hand.

The Hollow Folk inhaled together.

Like the first breath after a long winter.

Rep-Pep closed his eyes.

"So ripe."

His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Thank you."

Limbo turned away.

He couldn't watch.

Rep-Pep called after him.

"Would you like some?"

Limbo stopped.

The forest held its breath.

He didn't turn around.

"No."

His voice sounded older than the trees.

"I've had my share of lost causes."