I was trapped, all I could do was stare at the marred-and-grim expression of his face as his golden eyes drilled into mine.
The scarecrow gestured, again, for me to take my shirt. I reach out with my good arm, for my torn and now blood-stained shirt. I slowly put my shirt back on.
I looked again at the scarecrow, who now stood blankly at me. I was still scared out of my mind, and thats exactly why I almost jumped out of my skin when the wooden man tore the sleeve off of my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I squeaked loudly
The scarecrow looked up at me and raised a wooden hand in a “one second” kind of gesture. He dragged me my the shoulder towards him and wrapped my gash gently in the torn cloth.
“Th-thanks.” I managed.
The scarecrow gave a quietly crackling shrug, and motioned me to follow him.