The Traveling Tinker

Fien fixed her eyes on the trail ahead as her wagon lumbered along. Going from place to place is what she did, she was a gypsy of sorts but in reality Fien was a tinker, a peddler just like her father before her, and his father before him. If people needed things fixed, she could do it. If they needed a new kettle or shovel, she could sell them one or offer a fair trade. She usually traded in simple, inexpensive things but sometimes not. She had worked hard to cobble together a good, simple life and she was respected throughout the valley. She would carry news of happenings from village to village and innkeepers were happy to exchange news for a warm meal, a soft bed and a warm bath but most nights were spent on the road, camping under the stars which, in her heart, was what she preferred. 

It had been a long day and she was ready to set camp for the day picking a nice open glade just off the road. The sky was without a cloud so it would be a good night for the stars. She had just set camp and was putting her pot of soup on the campfire when it appeared, literally out of nowhere it seemed. It was badly injured. Its arm hung limp by its side and its left leg drug along in the dirt behind it as if it were broken. It’s breaths were weary and coming in gasping intervals. Initially Fien was startled at its appearance coming out of the bushes as it did and she tried to ignore it, acting like it wasn’t there hoping it would leave and just move on. But it didn’t. It settled across from her by the fire periodically looking in her direction as she would look away before making eye contact. It remained by the fire soaking in the heat until finally it curled up in a ball and fell asleep. It wasn’t much bigger than a rabbit but unlike a rabbit its skin appeared smooth and looked the color of burnt wood. Small wisps of smoke blew from its nostrils and curled up past its little cracked horns glinting darkly in the light of the fire. 

She sat across the fire looking at the infernal little thing and momentarily thought of taking the stone that lay next to it and smashing its head but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it had crept into her mind. She wasn’t the killing type. She was more of a helper, a fixer. That was why she enjoyed her life as a tinker. She looked at its arm and leg and, against her better judgment, she wondered if she could fix it. She laughed a bit to herself at the thought of traveling from village to village with a little infernal creature from the underworld in tow. People would certainly start talking. Some villages might even ban her or worse for bringing such a thing in the midst. 

Ever since the Reaping began, many villages were looking harshly upon travelers and outsiders. In some instances being outwardly hostile toward them, herself included. In fact, on more than one occasion in recent months, she’d been followed out of town by villagers who demanded their goods or coin back while refusing to return what she’d given in trade. Essentially stealing from her. Her father had taught her that not all deals worked out and it was best to live to trade another day. Her life was worth more than a shovel or a few coins so she always acquiesced but she never forgot. She looked across the fire at it again with a curious glance. She knew it was a preposterous idea but she couldn’t shake it. 

The next morning as she packed up camp she turned to see it crawling into the back of her wagon curling up on a tattered old yellow blanket drifting off to sleep once again. She started to object then looking around she shrugged her shoulders kicking dirt on the fire snuffing it out. She’d always had a soft spot for injured creatures, infernal or not. She told herself that she’d keep it for a few days, keep it hidden and nurse it back to health. That’s it. Then she’d release it back into the woods or wherever it came from. She pulled the flap down on the back of the wagon hiding it from sight smiling to herself. It was a good plan but what she didn’t know then was that it had different plans.  

She spent the next few days keeping it hidden, nursing it back to health. She was amazed and at how quickly it healed. She watched it in the light of the campfire marveling at how limber and agile it was as it collected firewood, put the kettle on the fire and even secured her horse, Patty, to the picket line. However, each night as Fien settled down to sleep she noticed that it would get up and head out into the woods. For what purpose she did not know. Never in any particular direction but without fail it would head out each night and each morning it would be back at camp sleeping on the tattered blanket in the wagon. 

Even though part of her had enjoyed its company and she was starting to get attached it having it around, she knew it wouldn’t work to keep the infernal little thing as a pet. It was time for it to head back into the wilds. Over the course of the next week, she’d tried many times leaving it behind or dropping it off in the middle of the woods only to find that a short time later it was back sleeping on the tattered yellow blanket in the wagon none the wiser. So, it wasn’t really that she decided to keep it, it was more like she couldn’t get rid of it. 

A short time later, as if it must have felt her efforts to rid herself of it, it started bringing her offerings like a cat would bring a mouse to the feet of its owner. Only it didn’t bring mice, it brought little trinkets and baubles like lockets with other people’s pictures in them or timepieces carrying some unknown initials or engravings. She initially ignored them and would just hide them safely away in her wagon hoping that whomever these belonged to would never come looking for them. Still, she couldn’t help but hear the rumors spreading about a new thief in the valley and how people and things were rumored to go missing around the time that Fien had visited. Such rumors clearly were not good for her business and she could no longer ignore the gifts or the little evening excursions it would take. So she’d resolved to redouble her efforts to go separate ways with it but, just as before, everything she tried simply did not work. It was like it was somehow attached to her very soul. Delivered to her and only her to make her life miserable and she’d started to rue the night she decided to help it. 

The rumors were taking hold and some villagers refused to trade with her. Those who did trade were difficult and often more contentious than usual. She feared there was some truth to the rumors that may have to do with her new companion so she resolved to follow it that night after leaving a small village nestled on the banks of the Atherton River. If her suspicions were confirmed then she would deal with it and she stowed her dagger in her belt just for that purpose. That evening she feigned falling asleep. Seeing it move through the shadows and once again leaving camp, she arose quietly setting off to follow it. She thought that she’d be following it into the village as it snuck into houses stealing things but what she learned was different, much different.

She slinked after it staying hidden in the shadows of the night following it, keeping it just on the edge of her sight. It was a shadow moving in the distance among the bushes cloaked in the darkness of night. When it stopped, she stopped. It seemed to be pacing around a few hundred yards from her wagon as if it were waiting for something when finally to Fien’s left she saw them. It was two men from the village. Men she had traded with earlier in the day. One needed some new pots and had traded his mothers viola for them but he was quite unhappy about it calling her things that men should not call women, ever. She knew it to be a fair trade but he clearly had felt differently. The other man had just bought candy for his little one. 

As the two men drew closer, Fien strained to listen as she heard one man say, “There’s the wenches wagon. Let’s go get me mum’s viola back and maybe a bit more fun as well.” He nudged his friend and they both let out a throaty giggle that sent shivers up Fien’s spine. Just then she saw something move quietly in the darkness. She crouched lower behind a fallen tree peeking over it into the clearing ahead. She saw a set of little cracked horns moving from the bushes behind the two men but instead of its usual seedy black eyes, they were now aflame in an eerie red glow. She continued to watch as it crept slowly, silently closer to the two men who remained unawares that they were being hunted. 

As she stole another peek, the men yelled out. The gruesome reality of the attack was horrific. One moment the infernal thing was the little creature curled up on the tattered yellow blanket in the back of her wagon and the next it had morpehed into a monstrous demon twice the size of a full grown man. Its hands were fists of sheer razors and its eye’s raged with fire as it tore the two men to shreds. The two villagers stood no chance against it. They were food for the ravens in the morning. When it was over, the infernal beast returned to its normal size that she knew and it carefully picked the boots from the feet of the two men and pulled a small pocket watch from one. She paused, processing what she just witnessed. It was brutal, atrocious but she couldn’t help thinking that it was somehow fair, justified as the throaty giggle of the men echoed in her mind. She strangely found herself smiling as she looked upon her new little companion. Those boots would be good for a few gold coins at one of the next villages and the watch, well she could trade it far away from this village and none would be the wiser.  

She quietly returned to camp ahead of it slipping into her sleeping bag closing her eyes once again. A few minutes later it drug itself into camp placing the two pairs of boots by the fire along with the little pocket watch and then perching itself atop the wagon. She saw its silhouette in the moonlight, looking, scanning, ever vigilant of the surrounding. Like a watch dog. Her watch dog, protective and unyielding. She wasn’t certain why it had come to her but she knew that it was somehow tied to her and she to it.  

She arose the next day placing the boots and the pocket watch into her wagon and clearing camp. She climbed up onto the wagon smiling as she looked into the back of the wagon seeing the sooty black horns of the infernal little thing. The wagon jostled a bit as the wheel stiffly rolled over a rock in the road. It briefly opened one of its black beady eyes before closing it again digging its head back into the blanket as they headed down the road to the next village. People would think she was crazy keeping an infernal as a pet but she preferred to just think of it as unusual, just like her. She didn’t care what people would think but she knew that she felt safer with it around.