There was no stopping through the day, and throughout the night as well. Stitches kept Bread at a simple pace through The Shire, working his way West from Stock all the way to Hobbiton. Then after a quick ten minute stop, a check of his map and an elongated squinting session with the parchment, he traveled North to Brockenborings. Stitches didn't stop here either, heading North even further to pass straight through the small hobbit stead on beyond The Greenfields and up to Oatbarton. It was dawn by the time he arrived, and the grocers were already setting out food at their stalls, to which Stitches' stomach gave an angry reaction. Bread was tired too, and the journey could not already be wearing on them in Stitches' frantic mind. Though his better senses told him to eat, his hesitation to spend his limited funds and rations held him, but not for long, as per the hissing of a familiar companion.
Stitches had given Bread a few minutes to rest while he walked about, map scrolled up and clenched in his hand. His eyes wander to the stall of William Asquith, a hobbit stall vendor in Oatbarton. He stops in front of the wooden stand, staring down at the fluffy loaves and biscuits, his mouth watering, but closed. William himself seems unsure of how to address Stitches, but this is a normal reaction to the ex farmhand. People generally react this way to his face, not sure to be unnerved, crack a joke, be cautious or kind hearted. Stitches wants no sympathy from this hobbit, but the bread is appetizing.
From over his shoulder he is addressed again as he recently had been by a hateful voice as he stares on at the morning cakes and crumbly pastries, "Take it." It commands him.
Stitches, in a sleepless and hungry gaze speaks out loud, "But...he's standing right here." He says, likely more loud than he means to, mentioning the hobbit William manning the stall.
- - - - -
William frowns and looks at Stitches bewildered, "What? Who you talking to, me?" He asks the customer, but Stitches gives no response, and yet William watches the strange man with a frown nonetheless.
William checks near Stitches, looking for any person that may be accompanying him, but not near him nor around him does he see anyone. Just the tall, looming man, staring at his bread and talking about him in a way that makes him uncomfortable, he daresay!
- - - - -
The voice urges at Stitches, sounding almost as hungry as he feels, though for something else entirely, "Come on. Wait till he looks away or draw someone over. Create a distraction about the scent or something."
Stitches gulps as he salivates at the fresh bread on the platter, whispering quieter now, as though he acknowledged that William heard him. His voice is no longer audible to the hobbit and he whines, holding onto his good nature, to his cloaked and sinister partner, "I can't spend money now, we just started. Besides, I can last longer without food."
The voice of the hooded man over his shoulder sounds sickened by him and argues, a few good points to be fair, "Gah! You cannot travel on an empty stomach. You'll expire. If you don't want to pay just take it and run, his stupid little legs won't catch you and there aren't many others around either. Damn short folk won't be catching you. Call Bread, grab the other bread, and let's go!"
Stitches looks at William and coos ravenously, "I could. Maybe... I should." The hobbit looks at him confused, but fumbles around to wait for the man to buy something.
Stitches reaches his hand down towards the bread, his eye on the grocer behind the stall, and he can feel his left shoulder feel less heavy, as though no one peeks over it anymore. The voice is satisfied, maybe? It doesn't matter...everything is empty, there's nothing there. He has to have it, he needs to have it. His muscles tense as he can nearly feel the baked dough in his fingertips. Then, suddenly there's a cool air on his hand, and when he looks down, he can see another hand atop of his to stop him. It isn't real, it's outlined in a faint blue light and he can see his hand and the bread through its half transparence. A soothing and familiar voice comes from the figure attached to the arm that the hand leads up to, "Please don't do that."
He looks up and lets out a horrified gasp. He stops entirely, his breathing, the movement of his muscles, his mind, everything. The face of Dru looks at him with expectant eyes and her ghastly hand squeezes his own softly, "You're better than that."
For a long while Stitches is stood there, and William's attempts to shake him of his frozen state are futile. Eventually he shakes his head and apologizes to the hobbit, covering his mouth with his hand and like a child who just disappointed their parent, drives himself off out of town along the North East Road.
