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The woods are a pretty sweet setup, really- they're kinda away from the bar, not a whole lot of people go there, except the occasional Dude Sparring in the Clearing or Werewolves (who, at the time, don't usually count as people, at least in the Monster's eyes).

Thus, there is one hideous monstrosity kickin' back out in the wilderness, enjoying a lack of company.

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"I beseech you, flee not from my presence!" he cries out quickly, "I mean no harm to you, and swear that, be it in my power, none should come to you while you are near me."

He shifts, leaning down to try to see.

"What is your name? Are you unaccompanied in these woods?"

Harold peers out from behind Snowball.

Timidly, "No hurt? No tell I here?"

"Are you in hiding? You have my sympathies- I know well such a feeling. But who would be in pursuit of such an one as yourself?"

"Hide." He nods.
"Run 'way."

"Is it that you are in danger? I would be more than delighted to offer whatever aid I could to you. I can assure you, these woods are no comfortable place for a solitary child."

He points back towards the bar.
"Dere no good."

Seriously, "Dey tome back."

"I see... it is an unpleasant place for you, as well? Perhaps... I could offer you a place to stay, then. It is not far away, and I can assure your safety inside."

If he knew the superstition, he'd be crossing his fingers here. Making friends with a child... that could be an immense help to him.

Harold looks unsure.
"Stay?"

"A dwelling- a house, that you might not suffer in the chilled open air of night. It is colder here than most humans find comfortable."

Thoughtfully, "Is 'told.

But 'nowball warm!" He points to the dog happily.

"And would it not also be a comfort to have a roof to keep the rain from you, and walls to keep away what beasts may come?" He adds, thoughtfully, "As well as any person who might pursue you with the hope to take you back to that place."

"Me hide!" He says stubbornly.

"Is it not easier to hide in a dwelling than a forest?"

Harold considers this, then pulls out his crayon and draws a miniture house.

He opens the door, steps inside, then back out.

"See?"

There's an impressed pause.

"Amazing," he breathes, "A sorceror, at such a young age! Truly, wonders shall never cease in this place."

"What..
Sor-sir-wir?"

"One who can wield magic- or is it that such a feat is known by a different name to you?"

Harold shrugs.
"Dunno."

"Then... such a talent has come naturally to you? The world truly is a place of wonders. I conclude that I can offer no help that you could not make on your own."

Harold really doesn't understand the other's amazement.

He shows him his crayon.
"See? Special crayon.
Mine."
Lots of nodding.

"So... the magic is not in the weilder, but in the object itself? Yet still, to own such a thing..."

He makes his way down the tree carefully.

"Truly, there must be nothing to fear when you've been gifted with such a powerful thing."

Harold frowns.

"My twayon! Dive to me. Only mine!"

Since no one else has ever tried to use it, really he doesn't know that it wouldn't work for anyone else..Still..
Although Harold doesn't remember that The Protector gave him his crayon, (http://users.livejournal.com/_the_protector/") the knowledge that it's his and only his is very strong in him.
He'd protect it for anything.

He stops immediately. "Please do not ascribe any ill motives to this wretch- though I may seem loathsome, I assure you that I meant only a closer look. It would serve you, a babe in the woods, much better than it would myself, a creature built to survive and thrive in such a location."

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