Rick spent the first week in a daze. Awake but not quite, thinking but not quite, contemplative but not quite. It was living yet not. A thing Rick felt that he needed, a thing he was completely fine with, the week being good for him. It was life without the bother of living. He used this week to the fullest, feeling his belly swell, his heart burn and his mind relax, body cleaned and head shaven. Rick felt like a monk in the mountains, like a bird in the sky, like a priest meeting their god. The only thing that hampered his satisfaction was Bob’s numb body still in his chest pocket, unmoving due to Rick's unwillingness to risk exposure by giving Bob life.

The week passed by quickly yet slowly, like mountains corroding with time, like wind in a storm, both happening at the same time. A week of nothingness being comfortable. He used the week to gather strength and gather will. Rick observing rather than doing. Observing the many children playing in the church, absent during the morning prayers.

Observing the pastor taking offerings for the church, always with a kind smile, always kind to those asking for guidance. Observing the many people gossiping, hearing about the toymaker, about the monster in the woods, about the many people missing, about the lack of trade due to this monster.

Observing how the lonely child, the owl child, the little girl, would keep to herself, read her books and be out of sight. Though Rick could see her watching everything, eyes like the glowing sun in the sky, like stars at night, like gods watching their subjects.

The pastor, Noah, seemed to be aware of the girl's loneliness, often coming up to her, patting and petting. The girl looking averse, yet not avoiding. Rick observed all of this, yet didn’t dwell on any of it, just satisfied, content with having a warm place to sleep.

Although, Rick found himself looking at the owl girl quite often, strangely drawn to her, like an invisible cord stuck between them, only felt by Rick. Rick looked at her, seeing her as the week passed. He saw her reading different books each day, each seemingly thicker than the last. Rick saw her as she talked to Noah, treated with the respect of an adult, patted as if a child.

Rick saw as she talked to the other children, shunned like a rat. Rick saw as she tried to play games, failing miserably, laughed at by the other children. But what Rick didn’t see, what bothered him most, was a smile, a smile missing. The girl hiding in her corner, each morning frowning deeply as she disappeared outside, outside the safety of the church, pushed by a pastor's gentle hand. Rick wanting to follow, to see what she was doing. But did not, his body willing but mind stopping, like wanting to take a step over an edge but not doing it, like wanting to dip your toe in scalding hot water, but not doing it.

Instead, Rick found himself bothered, bothered to the core of his very being. The girls lacking smile's and isolation bothering him. Rick didn’t have much else he was doing, nore did he have much to give the girl or any fun games to play. But he knew how to carve, and he hoped that a statue could at least bring a smile to her face.

So that was what Rick did, at first having to explain and gesture to Noah that he needed a knife and some wood. Two things he got, at least after Rick awkwardly explained what he needed. And several minutes of awkward questions from Noah.

With a knife in hand and a plank of wood that felt as uninspired and bland as the knife he held, Rick started pondering on the wood, thought on it, looked at it, wondering what he should make. But no matter how much he stared, the wood just didn’t speak to him, didn't give him ideas, didn't whisper what it wanted to be. To Rick, it was just a piece of wood, sawed into a perfectly acceptable plank. Rick sighed at the realization, but felt that he couldn’t ask for more, already feeling shameful about asking for this much. So he bit his tongue and started carving, a figure in his head, something he assumed children would like.

It didn’t take long; it didn’t go fast, but he finished it within the hour. A simple thing, carved to look like a cat, a simple little cat. Rick knew it to be good, knew it objectively to be good looking. But it lacked a spark, a spark of life that Rick wanted for all his creations. This cat, this simple cat, was dead to him. But sometimes you could only do so much, and he felt that it would suffice for the little girl.

So he took it and started walking towards the girl in the corner. Who at his approach, seemed startled and alarmed that the bald, mute and strange man who was walking towards her. She raised her book in a vain attempt at hiding herself; Her blanket already doing its best for her lower part. Rick ignored it and continued his walk, slightly sad that she would react like this. And as he came within touching distance, he reached the cat forward, presenting it like a gift, like a knight presenting their sword to their king.

The girl peaked over her book as the mute man wasn’t leaving, first seeing his neutral and frankly, quite scary expression. Hiding again, Rick waited patiently for her to peek once more. And as she did, she avoided his face, instead seeing the cat in his hand. This time, her expression softened, softened to what looked like confusion, confusion that made her look up at Rick, then back down at the cat. As time passed, her expression slowly unraveled, unraveled to Rick’s great surprise into a frown. Rick felt his own expression change, one of confusion. And as the girl made no move to take the cat, his expression changed into mild anger.

Rick stomped away like a child after not receiving their wished for toy. The girl's expression being far from what he had expected, an expression that angered Rick more than he thought possible. Rick knew the cat lacking, simple as it was, but how dare a mere child frown upon his statues, frown upon his art!

A flame burned in Rick’s heart, this flame not of safety nor satisfaction, but of passion and mild anger. He would show the child what true beauty was, he would show her the best statue and force a smile on her face. His dignity, a thing he thought lacking, wouldn’t settle for less.

And so it was, Rick would spend the rest of the day carving. The wooden plank within his grasp slowly withering into nothingness, statue after statue getting made. Each better than the last, each met with a frown by the little girl, each statue like tinder on a raging inferno that burned in Rick’s heart. Rick carved and carved, knowing that the wooden plank lacked life, knowing that he couldn’t make them “alive” without exposing that he was the toymaker, but he still tried. He tried his hardest, damn it, doing his best within the confines of the big church. A week of boredom turned to a day of passion, anger and to Rick’s unconscious mind, fun.

At the end of the day, Rick sat with a collection of statues, each better than the last, and a wooden plank too small to carve. He glared angrily at the little girl, the little girl glaring angrily back. The two in a duel of wills, one wanting affirmation, the other of suspicion. One wanting confirmation, the other lacking trust. But somehow, someway, both found themselves amused, the day passing without bad thoughts, a day of fun even in the heat of anger, a day worth remembering.

But as Rick continued staring at the owl girl, he found his vision blocked by someone. Looking up at the culprit, he stared up at Noah who looked out and over all of Rick’s statues, eyes full of wonder.

“You made these?”

Noah breathed out. Rick gulped, realising that he might have done something stupid. Still, Rick nodded, his eyes full of fear. But his fear was for naught, as Noah excitedly exclaimed.

“That’s amazing! Never seen such expert craftmanship, truly a master in disguise. Who would have thought?”

Rick blinked twice, thrice, feeling his cheeks warm, the praise seemingly out of nowhere, like the most delicious cookie, like the warmest blanket, like the most beautiful landscape. Rick looked away from Noah, down at his feet, seeing two rather shiny shoes, black yet lustrous. Rick looped the praise in his mind, almost not hearing Noah as he continued talking.

“I’ve never seen anything as good as this. My good-man, with your blessing, I would be more than happy to give these away. These toys are a true blessing of Carita, and I do really hope you wish to share this wonderful gift with the rest of the world.”

Rick blinked yet again, this time like a cat seeing their favorite owner, like a bird watching for predators. Rick couldn’t believe his ears, believe the outrages things being said. Rick knew himself to be good, but this good? Worthy of a church good? Even if Noah called them mere toys, Rick still couldn’t believe it. This really surprised him, and his already warm cheeks felt like lava. Rick nodded a little too fast to be natural, but Noah just smiled happily at Rick’s response, giving him a big and warm hug.

“Oh my dear child, to think a gift as yours would grace my great church. Truly the work of Carita! Now, with your blessing of course, I’d be more than happy to inscribe these toys.”

This time though, Rick felt himself frowning, not a frown of displeasure, but of confusion. And as the embrace ended, Noah seemed perplexed by Rick’s frown. But his knowing eyes, full of wisdom and kindness, seemed to see through what his frown meant and spoke up.

“Maybe you haven’t heard? The toymaker’s toys all seem to be “alive”. An absurd thing if you ask me. You can’t make living toys just as much as you can’t revive someone from the dead. No, these toys are merely works of a truly great runesmith. No wonder he’s so sought after by the queen-”

Rick watched Noah as he spoke, his eyes widening with each sentence, ending comically huge, looking like those of an owl. Rick wasn’t just hunted because of his failures, but by knowledge he knew he didn’t posses. This made it all so much worse and confusing. Rick knew that his statues were not alive, but to be told that they could only be made "alive" by a great runesmith felt stupid. Rick wasn’t a runesmith, but he could still make his statues seem "alive".

Rick was janked out of his musings as Noah pointedly looked down on Rick while saying.

“-Anyway, I’d like to inscribe these toys to make them “living”, they are quite popular these days.”

Rick nodded absentmindedly, turning to look at his statues. In his mind they were all failures, in Noah’s mind, all perfect. Noah continued talking.

“Great! That’s perfect! Oh and, if you don’t mind, it would really help this church if you made more of these toys. I’ll of course get you the supplies needed. Get you whatever you need.”

Noah said, sounding a little anxious, as if asking a father for something, as if asking a friend for help, as if telling a sister a secret. Rick merely felt happy, happy that he seemed to be able to help, able to do something for a man that had been nothing but kind to him. Rick nodded, attempting a smile that made Noah shrug back in surprise, laughing at his weird expression that looked nothing like a smile. But even so, the message got across, and Noah seemed ecstatic at Rick’s approval.

“Amazing! I’ll get you everything ready by the morn. God bless Carita that you came! This will spell a turning point. A turning point for this great church! Yes, this I tell you!”

Noah yelled in delight, his voice bouncing around the large church, looks from the many children drawn to the spectacle, Rick pushing himself deeper into his chair in embarrassment, shining like the ripest tomato.

Rick sheepishly looked around, seeing the children look at him and Noah with confusion, some smiling, some laughing. The atmosphere feeling light, warm, and tender. Everything about this church feeling warm, like a mother embracing you, like a father praising you, like your child being happy.

Rick looked around, feeling blessed, stopping as his eyes met the little girl. The two staring at one another, captured by one another, being in a time far away from everyone else. Rick felt his warmth slowly slip away, engrossed in a slow unease, unease he couldn’t quite place. For when he looked at the little girl, a girl that had only shown fear, confusion and anger. She now showed an expression that looked like pity.