The night breeze was cool, and the moonlight poured down like water. The small town had long since fallen asleep, with only the occasional call of birds deep in the forest, sounding like whispers of the night.
Noah walked alone among the trees. He did not need sleep, and this had become an unspoken habit in his life with Anya. Whenever the world grew quiet, he would silently slip out of the cottage to gather berries and herbs. Sometimes, he would simply sit on a stone and stare at the moon.
Tonight was no different. He held a handful of red berries picked from a bush, intending to return soon and make sweet soup for Anya. She had a fondness for sweets. The corners of his mouth curled slightly as he imagined the joy on her face when she saw the steaming pot in the morning. A gentle warmth stirred in his chest.
But then, a strange sound shattered the stillness.
The bushes rustled. Something large was quietly approaching.
Noah spun around, but before he could see clearly, a thick rope suddenly tightened around his neck from the darkness. Though he had no lungs, his wooden body reacted instinctively, struggling with flailing limbs. He kicked, clawed the air, and growled through clenched teeth.
"Who are you? Show yourself!"
The forest was silent. Only the snapping of dry branches replied, sharp and cruel. As he thrashed, the berries scattered on the ground, and leaves flew. The tiny gesture of kindness he had prepared for Anya was now lost in the wind.
"No. Let go of me!" he roared, but no one heard him in the night.
"Such a noisy puppet," a low male voice sneered close to his ear.
"You cannot harm me," Noah rasped, his legs still flailing.
"I do not need to hurt you. I only need to take you." The man moved quickly, binding Noah's limbs with coarse rope and stuffing him into a burlap sack.
The sack closed tight. Darkness swallowed everything. Noah felt the world compress around him, suffocating and silent. He screamed and struggled, but the footsteps faded farther and farther away. He was being taken, and with each step, he was moving farther from Anya.
The next morning, Anya opened her eyes and, as always, turned toward the other side of the bed. But this time, it was empty.
"Noah?" she called gently, sitting up with a smile. "Gone out for berries again?"
She got dressed, washed her face, and boiled some water. The pot remained empty. She waited, hoping to prepare breakfast with him. But time passed, and the sun climbed higher. Noah still had not returned.
Worry began to creep in. She pulled on a coat and stepped outside, following the trail Noah usually took toward the forest.
She crouched down and saw the grass trampled, branches broken. A little farther, a ripe berry lay on the ground, next to it, the familiar basket they always used.
Her heart sank like a stone.
"Noah... where are you?" Her voice trembled, and tears welled in her eyes.
"You promised me... you said you would not leave..." she whispered, then dropped to her knees, crying uncontrollably.
"Please come back. Please..."
At that moment, Noah had been taken to an unfamiliar place, the rear of an abandoned theater. The walls were cracked and moldy, the wooden doors creaked as they opened. He was thrown hard onto a stage, and his ropes were yanked off roughly.
"Come on, puppet. Perform," the man said, rubbing his hands together, his face dark and eager. "I know you can move. Make them laugh. Make them pay."
Noah slowly raised his head. His gaze was as cold as frost.
"I will not perform for you." His voice was calm and firm.
"Got some pride, huh?" the man's eyes darkened. He called over two others, who approached with cruel smiles and long whips. They brought them down on Noah's wooden frame.
The sound of cracking wood echoed sharply.
Noah felt no pain, but he stared at them with a cold, unwavering gaze, like a statue carved from stone.
"You will regret this," the man muttered through gritted teeth.
The next day, they dragged Noah onto a shabby stage. A few scattered spectators sat nearby.
"Dance, puppet," the man hissed in his ear, full of malice.
Noah did not move. He stood still, as lifeless as a puppet with severed strings. Music played, but he remained frozen.
"Is he broken?"
"This thing's a joke, right?"
The crowd laughed and booed. They left without leaving a single coin.
The man was furious. He whipped Noah over and over, striking his back, his shoulders, his chest. There was no pain, but the stitches Anya had sewn were coming undone.
They locked him in a dilapidated shack with one skylight and a rusted iron padlock on the door.
Noah sat in the corner, quietly watching the sliver of moonlight outside. He wondered if Anya was searching for him now. Was she crying?
His eyes softened. Something inside his chest seemed to slowly split open.
"Anya... I will come back," he murmured.
He tried to break the door. He pulled at the wooden bars of the window. Nothing worked.
Late at night, he curled into a ball, burying his face into his knees. Only the shadow of a wooden puppet remained, stretching long and lonely beneath the moonlight.
Elsewhere, Anya was already running into the forest, chasing the trail of scattered berries.
She was no longer crying. She bit her lip, and she kept running.
"Noah, I will find you."
She made a promise in her heart.