"Be quiet, kid! You’re giving me a headache with all that commotion." The person grumbled.
Timothy stared at the face, it was a man, with a long scraggly beard and crooked yellow teeth.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Timothy yelled.
The old man glared at him and made a "Shhhh" noise.
"I told you to be quiet. Now settle down while I get a fire started." He mumbled and bent over a pile of sticks, attempting to light them with a match.
Timothy watched him carefully and looked around, trying to find an escape route. "Don’t even think about trying to escape kiddo. It’s too dangerous to be by yourself in this here woods." The guy said gruffly, and winked. Timothy winced, but stayed where he was.

After a few excruciatingly silent minutes, the man stood up and admired his crackling bonfire with pride. He then picked up a sharp knife and walked over to Timothy, the light of the fire reflecting off of it.
"What are you gonna do with me?" Timothy whispered in terror.
The man smiled and walked closer. He bent over and picked up a small canvas bag, and pulled a large chunk of wood out of it. He sat down next to Timothy and began to whittle it. "Nuthin’ kiddo, don’t be all scared like that, it ain’t good for ya." He replied, narrowing his eyes in concentration.
The man fell silent, immersed into his wood project, and Timothy soon became drowsy. He tried as hard as he could to stay awake, but he eventually fell asleep.

Timothy awoke to the smell of bacon. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"G’ mornin’ kiddo. I got some breakfast all ready for ya. I hope you aint a vegetarian!" The man laughed and held out a dirty plate piled with sausages, bacon and ham.
Timothy stared at it suspiciously, and the man laughed harder. "Want me to take a bite first, to show it aint poison?" he asked and took a big bite out of the pile, then belched loudly.
Timothy took the plate and began eating.

"So," The man said as he sat down next to Timothy, "You’re prolly wonderin why I dragged you over here."
Timothy nodded.
The man held out a dirt caked hand, with four stubby fingers, the pinkie was missing.
"I’m Harold. I live in these here woods, and come into the city every now n’ then to buy supplies like meat, matches, and cigarettes."
Timothy shook his hand and mumbled
"Timothy."
Harold nodded, "I know all about you, I was hired to find ya. Buy some Amish guy named Matthew."
Timothy’s jaw dropped, "When did he do that? I haven’t lived with that dude for years!"
Harold sighed, "Well, he asked me t’ find you about twelve or so years ago, but I had been so busy until now that I couldn’t bother. But now I got ya, so he won’t be too mad at me."
Timothy stood up quickly, knocking his plate off of his lap. "You can’t take me back to Amish land! I hated it there! You can’t make me!"
Harold put his plate to the side and stood up. "Now kiddo, I can’t just find ya, then let ya go. That just don’t make no sense."
Timothy backed away and said "Well, you can’t take me if you can’t catch me!" and he turned around and ran.
Harold rolled his eyes "Kiddo, I know this here woods like the back o’ me hands, there aint no way you can outrun me here."
But Timothy continued running. Harold sighed again and chased after him.