Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle - Babadook

[Margaux]

These are a few of my favorite things.

They have come to the very edge of the playground. Margaux stands proudly as Babadook takes things in. There are quite a few foals here today, chasing each other about, chattering in small clusters, or just napping in patches of sunlight. It is a scene full of life and the simple joy of living. The young girl looks back at her new friend, startled to find him looking hesitant. Then she considers the condition she found him in. "We're at the playground. It's a safe place, mama's will take their kids here while they go do grown up stuff. " She replied, as knowledgeably as she could. 

She could see by the look on the poor boy's face that he was probably not ready to be thrown in with the rest of the wildlings running amok out there. She instead nudged him gently against his shoulder, guiding the angular colt along the edge of the playground, towards the fallen tree she had claimed as her own space. "C'mon, it's quieter over here." Her soft voice offered. 

The massive root system of the once mighty tree now branched overhead, forming a patchwork canopy above the crater left when it had been toppled. She had dragged pine boughs and crispy leaves into the alcove, forming a deep bed of plant litter. It was there she had been sleeping every night of the last two weeks, patiently waiting. She glanced at the dark boy, a little worried. She was safe here, and she didn't want that changing. 

The little filly kicked lightly at the broad tree trunk, then turned to him gravely. "You can't tell anyone about this place, ok? I mean, the playground, everyone knows about. But they don't know I'm living here. So don't tell, ok? Promise?" She spoke earnestly, pleadingly. She had to stay here, and if the parents found out she was living here, they'd take her away. Mama wouldn't know where to find her. So she stared at him with her big brown eyes, waiting on his response. She had no idea what she'd do if he said no, if he decided to go tell everyone he knew. That would be absolutely awful.   

@[Babadook]

[Babadook]

Babadook

Babadook has led a simple life until this moment. His days consist of exploring every inch of the wide circle his mother gives him, depending on the day, and his nights consist of sleeping curled between his mother’s feet as the predators sniff around them. He has no complicated friendships, with his companionship conserved between his mother and whatever assortment of woodland creatures he might play with throughout the day. The playground is exceptionally detailed and confusing compared to his minimalistic life, despite what Margaux might think.

So he slowly follows her, keeping his nose against her dainty rump as though breaking their connection might throw him into an endless void that might chew him up and spit him out as pulp. One older dark colt attempts to approach them, but Babadook avoids eye contact and shuffles around to Margaux’s opposite side — shy as a newborn fawn.

They reach the roots without a hitch afterword. Babadook is exceptionally aware of the overwhelming scent of her that marks the den beneath the overhanging roots and, despite himself, he inhales a large breath of it. She smells sweet and gentle, like the soft down of a baby rabbit mixed with the soothing aroma of spring flowers.

He acknowledges the seriousness of her pleading with a low nod of his head, but his mind is already pursuing other ideas. “You live here?” It isn’t an accusing tone (he can hardly judge her of anything, as he lives in the midst of the woods with the raccoons and squirrels) but a simple question, his dark eyes roving over the bedding. It looks comforting, especially when put together with the warmth of her personal scent. “Where’s your Mother?”

@[Margaux]