He can't tell which was worse. The freezing rain slowly numbing his feet or the sharp rocks that seemed to infest the dense forest that he was running through. He clutches tightly onto the silver bird pendant that was once his mother's; he hoped as loudly as he could that it would bring him strength and protection. It's dark out but not so dark that Dick wasn't able to see the trees when he ran up close enough to them but not much else. The sun set about an hour ago and the rain began not too long before he fled from his prisoners. The small, brisk cement room that he was kept in was approximately the same size as a broom closet with a miniature window uncovered by any glass except for metal bars that was six feet above him, letting in the frosty night air. He remembers pounding on the locked wooden door for hours on end before getting tired, only to start it up again when his energy was up once more. He had been in that room for days, he thought and the only time that the door would open was when his captors were bringing him the small amount of nutrients and this would only occur when he was at his most exhausted. They never gave him a chance to fight back; without his shoes, it made it harder to climb or kick the door in. The masked people never spoke to him when he was there, though he was not there very long, and there was no reasoning or pleading with those people.
"Just a little further and then I'll take a quick rest," Dick promises himself out of breath. The young man planned on putting as much distance between himself and his captors as possible before they realize that he is gone. The absence of his shoes and his over-shirt made it that much colder; he knew that he wouldn't last very long in his current condition. Without any promise of shelter, the injuries on his feet, and the harsh elements, he would end up with an infection; not to mention that he was in the middle of the woods that could very well be filled with vicious animals. "Right about now is when the handsome hero is supposed to show up!" He jokes aloud to himself; not that he was ever a fan of the story books and their unrealistic feel. The lacquer of such tales had worn off long ago for him, a part that died along with his parents a decade ago. And though, he cherished his new family and all they had to offer him, it was never the same. He loved them, wouldn't trade them if he had the choice, but there would always be a part of him that wondered about the person that he might have been had they lived. That aside, Dick hopes that his family is okay, especially Damian. Oh, how he had already missed that child; it's been years since he had been apart from all of them and for such a long time. He doesn't want them to worry too much; they tend to get snippier with one another when they're worried and then they do get much done because of it. It's been an either eight days since he was taken in broad daylight from his family. It was right in front of them. It happened so fast and the ruckus that his kidnappers caused was damn-near paralyzing. His head hurts just thinking about the
loud noise that resounding throughout the garden. It sounded like a horn of some kind however it was far too loud for it to have come from such a small instrument. Dick covered his ears lowering his head close to his knees. He was kneeling near the flowerbed tending to his aloe plants; Dick had always loved the outdoors, especially when it came to the greenery. When he was back with his parents, they would move around quite a bit, this provided him an opportunity to explore several different types of terrains. Being outside seemed so natural to him, he had always wanted a garden of his own, however, the lives that they lived didn't allow that. Though, he was allowed to keep small houseplants, mostly herbs or succulents or flowers that he'd found in the area.
Needless to say, he was exulted when he arrived at Wayne manor to find a place with such heavy vegetation, especially for the city. He had convinced the elderly butler to gift him a small patch in the garden to grow some aloe plants three years ago with a fantastic struggle. Alfred been trying to explain to Dick that the aloe just did not look that pleasing when next to the rest of his flowers and why couldn't he "harvest them in a small pot in his room with the rest of the plants he keeps in there". While Dick had been trying to explain to Alfred that they had absolutely needed the aloe there and that his "room was getting too crowded with plants that Alfred doesn't want him to plant in the garden". After weeks of the back and forth as well as an abundance of pestering him at inconvenient moments, Dick was able to finally have a small plot in the nursery to sow his many plants. Ever since he had been taken in by Bruce after the death of his parents he has spent much of his time outside in the wide expanse of land tending what he grew or up in his room with the ones he kept in there. Even when it was raining he would be lying in the grass with his eyes closed and letting the rain cool him; that is, before Alfred caught him and sent him inside. He loved all of them as he would love a pet; feeding them, talking to them. Though, he was ashamed to admit even to himself that he had a favorite. He loved his aloes the most, not because they were the only ones he was able to plant outside. Dick was convinced that he had needed the aloe for reasons that may have been a bit selfish. He had heard of its many uses when Damian had been reading aloud to him from a book about medicinal plant life. It had fascinated him; he the young man hadn't much considered growing any medicinal herbs or things found in nature. He has been using and often consuming it ever since he has been able to harvest the plant. He finds that it helps him his feeling on the inside. He and Damian were out in the garden on the day when he was spirited away. Damian was reading The Adventures of Pinocchio aloud to him while he tended to his pets. Oh how he loved the adventure books and their tales. He loved them in secret, though. He couldn't bring himself to tell the others; if he had, perhaps he would then have to tell of how he too longed for the adventure that was bestowed upon the protagonists of the children's books. He'd have to tell how he hated the same routine. Everyday was the same for him. Of waking and eating and tending and eating and family time and tending and reading and napping and more tending and sleeping. Dick loved his family, he loved his plants, though, a large piece of him had wanted to leave the grounds that held him most of his life to go see something new or meet people that were new. Something he could do on his own, maybe? Or have an journey of his own? Sometimes he would even wish something bad, but small, would occur just for the taste of the unfamiliar. But these had just been thoughts, he hoped.
The day was warm, and it is high noon. They had nowhere special to be and no occasion to hold. And then, the loud shrill noise, like an alarm, rang loud throughout the grounds. The big dog that was sitting next to Damian howled in pain at the auditory violation, his youngest brother dropped his book before collapsing to his knees to cover his ears as he hissed in pain before losing consciousness. Bruce stumbled out of the mansion and onto the grounds with squinted eyes to see what the ruckus was about but quickly falls victim to the uproar as his son had from the pain of the high-pitched disturbance. Dick could see Jason jogging in the back from somewhere in garden though he doesn't appear to be in as much pain as the rest of them, he was sweating, and his step was haggard. Dick thought that he might pass out from the pain that the buzz was inflicting upon him; his head rang, vision was swirling abnormally, and he can feel a liquid leaking out of his ears. Through it all, he had managed to raise his head, eyes still narrowed and slowly made his way over to Damian from his position in the flowerbed. The boy is hunched perhaps his youthful delicate ears could not take it for very long. As he reached down, attempting to hold the boy, hands were on his arms and the back of his neck pushing him into the grass. He turned around to see that there are at least five people dressed in dark clothing covering their faces before his head was forcibly turned back forward. On his knees now, his light spring garments were stained green in the grass. The grass was the last thing he saw before a new pain blossomed in the back of his neck before his world went quiet and as dark as
the forest that he was currently running through Dick thinks before he stumbles and falls on the slippery ground. On his way down, he slices the right side of his forehead on a sharpened tree branch.
"Ah!" He hisses clutching the right side of his forehead. He thinks that it hurt but that he may be alright because it feels better than it would if it had been a b- The young man's thoughts and body still as hushed whispers coil around him. Dick swears aloud, the rain for making it hard to hear where exactly they were coming from, perhaps they were all around him. They seem to be moving very quickly, it's as if they might be running, he thinks. He's spent enough time in that small cell to know that it was his jailers- or at least the ones who worked for his jailers. He damns himself for being so immersed in his previous thoughts to not have heard them before. Looking up he sees a small light through the dark forest that may not have been there a few moments ago ahead of him. A small cabin? People? There might be hope for his escape yet! But why hadn't he seen it there earlier? And what is that thumping noise? Dick thinks as a loud galloping thud came to his senses. As a cool gale ripped through him in his soaked clothing, he decides that it doesn't matter why it's appearance is so sudden.
Maybe the people in the hypothetical cabin just now decided to light's their lamps for the night. He is probably looking at their window! As the night approaches and the dusk fades it was becoming far too dark to tell be deciding that anything was definitely something. The whispers are coming closer. With that, Dick decides it's better to move towards the suspicious light than to stay and wait for what he knew was something dangerous to his person. As quietly as he is able, Dick stands up in his soiled robe-like garments, that were once so lovely and soft, and runs as fast as possible toward the light. The pain of cold feet is one he has not experienced in a great many years; any person that lived in a colder region would know that once one's feet were cold, it was time to go home and that there is no dealing with that discomfort if it is at all avoidable. The whispers behind him were get louder as they seem much to be approaching at a faster pace. Dick tries to focus of the sound of the rain and the light that now seems much closer than it should; he knows he isn't that fast a runner. He tries to ignore the thumping and the whispers that seem to deeply in his ears; tries to concentrate on the light and even the damage done on his feet. Then there are all too familiar hands latching tightly onto his arms that then vanish as swiftly as they appeared. The brunette falls down once again but this time into a cold muddy body of water that is approximately calf-deep. He thrashes into a sitting position, water flinging all about, though it doesn't seem to do much of anything considering the rain and the dark-clad hands are on him, sinking their sharpened nails into his forearms.
"Get off of me!" He yells at the top of his lungs them flailing about furiously in the mud-water; partly out of pain, the other part, to perhaps alarm the people in the light and bring them to his location. The try to pull him out of the water and in the direction of their horrible lair. Just then a bright light is shone their way. The hands' grasp and recede back into their darkness, running back the way that they came from, he reckons. Looking up with narrowed eyes, Dick scans all around him for the light and finally imagines that it is the one in front of him. He hears a horse cry out behind the light but struggles to see it as well as the person that is probably holding a lantern.
"What are you doing out in these woods, boy?" A deep voice questions him sounding strained and irritated. The man lowers his lantern a bit allowing Dick to make out a face. An older man. A good-looking older man wearing a dark blue cloak that is drenched on top of a large brown horse with white stops. He couldn't exactly make out much else with all the heavy rain, exhaustion, and light in his eyes. Dick doesn't know why but his words feel stuck in his throat and he feels his face turn a deep red. He doesn't know why but his feelings inside are beginning to fla- that is say, that when he looks at this man, he needs that aloe.
"And so, the hero on the white horse appears," He hisses out quietly to himself.