[Henry's never seen woods like these before, and he's seen a lot of weird things! Neat.

If the impulse to continue on the path is strange, he doesn't seem to notice. Or, well, he does, but it's simply no concern to him. If he's wading into certain danger, then... 1) sounds fun, 2) he's gotta give whatever monster's at the end of the trail major points for creativity. Who is he to mess up a perfectly laid trap like this?

His ambling down the path is downright cheerful. What's up with the lack of color, anyway? Heck if he knows, but it doesn't seem like it's hurting anything, does it?]

[Aww, look who's gotten lost! Poor thing, sitting all alone and forgotten by her owner. Henry knows that feel.

Well, he's not one to repeat past mistakes! So rather than actually explore the house, he elects to sit beside the lonely little doll and keep it company, heedless of the riddle she's holding. After all, if he's not taking anything, what's the problem?

And there's no point in just sitting here waiting for nothing to happen, either. So instead he... picks up the doll and moves its little limbs to make it dance.]

[It's a monster chicken. But it is still an animal, and Henry likes animals. And he's no stranger to blood loss and fowl-related trauma. This shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Wrong, apparently. The chicken guards its hoard like its eggs are solid gold. To be expected from a new mother, really.

After the second time he gets bit--this time it draws blood--Henry actually pouts like he's five years old.]

Aw, come on, be nice! You won't miss one or two eggs, will you?

[Okay, this will be easy.

He doesn't know what laptops are, but he sure can read! And those are clear instructions as he's ever seen! This will be simple.

By which he figures the best way to accomplish this is to stand on a street corner and call out to random passersby.]

Hey! Tell me something about your childhood!