The Field Doll

Rolling, golden fields of wheat as far as the eye can see had enchanted Cosette. She had wanted to see the surrounding area, and decided to treat herself with a quaint little stroll. The fields were just on the outskirts of the town she’d been in. She’d seen them from the train, and had been enamored.
So there she was. Watching the golden waves bend so easily as the wind rolled through. In between gusts, they rose back to their proud posture.
There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere. About resilience and rising after each fall, or something of that nature.
Seeing the dirt path ahead of her raise into a hill’s steady slope, she picked up her pace. She hastened to get to the hill’s peak, giggling to herself - there was so much the vantage point might reveal to her. She was well past where she could have seen from the distance of the train. A plethora of possibilities!
She skidded to a stop. Her arms flailed out to the side, she leaned harshly backwards, trying to find a place for her other hoof that dangled in precarious bewilderment.
It turned out Cosette had been a little distracted. When she’d brought her head out of the clouds, she’d almost passed the hill’s peak, resulting in her clumsy stopping. No matter. She was fine now. She found her balance and had both hooves now planted firmly on the ground. With a sigh of relief, her eyes refocused on the world around her rather than the invisible world of panic.
She hadn’t been wrong. The view of the fields from up high was breathtaking, and she could make out the edge of a nearby forest. Trees dotted the fields in the distance, forming a gradient of plant life, standing like beacons among the wheat. Their bright red leaves were eye-catching. So much so, she’d almost missed the figure that stood ahead of her. Too far to make out clearly. She waved.
The figure was still.
Deciding they must be facing away from her, Cosette steadily descended the hill and continued to trot along the path. As the flannel pattern of the stranger’s back began to be distinguishable, Cosette called out. “Hello!”
The figure was silent.
Confused, both by the lack of reaction and the strange position, she looped around so that she could get a view of the stranger’s face without getting too close - just in case they were in a sour mood.
Seeing the truth of the matter, she shrieked in surprise. Large, empty black eyes stared soullessly in her direction. The head limply tilted to their right, as if observing Cosette. Studying her. Arms both stiff and casual reclined as the body did, balanced strangely on some sort of pike.
The figure didn’t move.
Cosette didn’t move.
For a minute, they stared at each other in complete stillness. Finally, Cosette tilted her head in much the same way as the figure before her.
They remained still.
Emboldened slightly by their lack of action, she meekly waved her hand in its direction.
Nothing.
With a sharp inhale for courage, she approached.
All seemed safe.
As she approached, indeed, she realized that this wasn’t some bizarre and frightful alien on her own home planet. The eyes that had been so lifeless were buttons. The deathly limpness was a side effect of merely being straw. As she studied the large, straw doll before her, she couldn’t help but laugh.
She remembered now having heard about “scarecrows”, but this was her first encounter with one. A guardian for the lovely golden field with the innocent eyes of many a stuffed toy or doll.
This context immediately endeared her to the scarecrow. “I hope it’s not too cold out for you today,” she said jovially. With an inspiration and a hope, she waved again to the scarecrow. “I’ll come visit you before I leave this town, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to show you the world - in spirit, I don’t think your maker would much like me taking you off that pike.”
With her goodbyes said and the buzz of newness in her mind, Cosette dashed off to see if she could find a souvenir to resemble the pleasant field-stander.