“Or maybe,” I say, a little gentler this time, “we’ll find a magical place where food grows on the trees and the animals all talk and … and the people live in buildin’s that touch the sky. And they keep their mouths closed when eatin’ crow.”
I poke him in the ribs, and he giggles.
“Now, you’re just bein’ foolish,” he says, but I feel much better at hearing him laugh. I poke him again, and then start tickling his ribs, making him shriek in glee. “Stop, Tara! Stop!”
I don’t see Cat approaching ‘til she’s almost on top of us. She’s so black she blends right in with the evening shadows. Silently, she pads up to Finn and drops whatever she’s caught tonight between us.
Shizen!
I fall backwards on my elbows and shimmy away in fright at the rather large and still moving critter.
“What is that?” I say, a little more loudly than I meant to. Finn, unlike me, is beyond excited and grabs the creature’s head—no wait, heads. There’s two of ‘em attached to the long, writhing body. He gets to his feet and the critter is about as tall as he is.
“Ain’t you ever seen a tree snake before?” he asks, grinning like he’s got the moon in his hands.
Feeling a little foolish now for showing the boy my fright, my answer comes out a bit cross-like. “If I did, then I wouldn’t have to ask, now would I?” I say, sniffing and wiping my hands on my trousers, totally embarrassed by my reaction. “Don’t look like something we should be eatin’.”
The boy shakes his head. “Nah, tree snakes are good to eat and real tender, too. I cain’t believe you never seen one before.”
He’s truly tickled to be one up on me. I give him my best irritated look.
“Aye. Well, if you’re such an expert, then you can clean it and cook it,” I say, holding out my knife.
He just shrugs and takes it from me. “Okay. I’d be better at it anyways since you don’t even know what it is,” he says and cracks up laughing at his own words.
“Mule turd,” I growl, but my own lips twitch in amusement.
I watch interested as he chops off both heads with one swing of the knife then a part of the tail. The snake looks huge lying on the ground, almost two arm spans I reckon. He slits it from the tail end up, then makes a couple of notches with the knife and pulls off the skin all in one piece. I ain’t ever seen anything like that done before.
“Snake skin is real good for trading,” he says and lays it aside. He tosses the heads, tail, and innards to Cat waiting patiently by the fire, then spits it on a long twig and hangs it over the low flames.
“Oh gods, my mouth is waterin’ already. I cain’t wait.” He’s hopping like a wild rabbit back and forth from one foot to the other, looking all of his twelve years. It makes me laugh.
“Well, you’re gonna have to wait,” I say. “And you’re gonna have to clean up. Your hands are a mess. Go see if you can find some wet leaves or moss or such.”
“Okay,” he says, agreeing with me and grinning slyly. “Besides, it’s time for my nightly droppin’s anyway.”
I screw my face up at him. “Ugh. You’re disgustin’.”
His laughter follows him into the trees. He disappears from sight with my warning of not to go too far trailing after him. I lay back and close my eyes. The nights are cooler here in the woods, and the warmth of the fire feels good against my skin. The smell of the cooking snake fills the air, blocking out the stench of the rotting trees. It’s making my mouth water as well. If it tastes as good as it smells, then we are in for a real treat, I think. I yawn, the day’s travel catching up to me. Maybe just a quick nap while I’m waiting.
“Tara!”
The scream makes my blood run cold and I bolt to my feet instantly, but Cat is much quicker than me. She’s already gone. I grab the iron shooter and run in what I hope is the right direction.
“Finn?” I yell, crashing through the trees. I cain’t see anything; it’s too dark, and my eyes ain’t adjusted from the firelight.
“Finn?” I yell again, panic gripping me ‘cause he ain’t answering. I trip over something, a root maybe, and I stagger but don’t fall. Why ain’t he answering?
“Over here,” he finally says, and at the sound of his voice, the ice-cold fear in my belly eases some.
I stumble onto him standing on a little bank, looking perfectly fine, and Cat calmly sitting at his side. No sign of danger, or attack, or critters like I was fearing. There’s nuthin’. He was screaming his fool head off over nuthin’. My fear starts escalating to anger ‘til I notice what he’s staring at. A creek, no less. A nice, big watering hole.
“You scared the hell outta me,” I say, but my anger is dimmed some by what he has found.
“Sorry,” he says, but he don’t look it. He looks excited and hopeful. “You think it’s good for drinkin’?”
Before I get a chance to answer him, Cat makes her way down the small slope. She sticks her head down into the creek, her slurping sounds loud in the quiet night. We look at each other with silly grins.
“I suspect so,” I say, and Finn’s excited whoops echo loudly back at us.
“I found us a waterin’ hole. I found us a waterin’ hole.” His chanting is followed by some two-step dance that makes him look more like a hog in its death throes than anything, and I cain’t help but laugh.
“Okay, okay mister hero, you found us water. Now make yourself useful and go get the water skins.”
After we had filled the water skins and drunk our share, we laid back on the creek bank, just staring at the moon’s reflection on the dark water and reluctant to leave our little haven. Being around the water, well, it was comforting almost.
“Tara,” Finn says, breaking our companionable silence.
I look over to see him watching me with the oddest expression on his face.
“What?” I say, wondering what was going through that head of his.
He shrugs. “I was just thinkin’.”
I nod at him. “Yup, thought I could smell wood burnin’.”
“Huh?” He looks at me in confusion.
I shake my head and sigh sadly. “Nuthin’. Just something Grada used to say.”
“Oh,” he says. “Well anyway, I was thinkin’ it would be real nice to wash up. Ain’t had a good wash since … well before …”
I know what he means by “before,” and I don’t want him thinking about that, so I punch him lightly in the arm. “Aye, I know what you mean. You smell worse than Cat.”
“Hey!” He looks at me all offended. “I ain’t that bad.” Cat raises her head and snorts like she’s disagreeing.
“Besides, you don’t smell no better.”
I don’t take no offense ‘cause I know it to be true. I shrug. “So let’s take a wash then.”
“But …”
“But what?” I say.
“Well …,” he’s all embarrassed and he sits up, dropping his gaze from me. “You’re a girl and I’m a boy.” He trails off sheepishly.
I try not to laugh at him, and I’m glad he’s not looking at me so he don’t see my grin.
“Tell you what, you can go wash up that end, and I’ll go over there.” I point to where a low-hanging tree is growing all sideways over the creek as if its branches were reaching for the water, forming a wall almost. “Besides, it’s real dark, and I promise not to peek.”
He mulls it over, but the draw of the water overtakes his shyness. Jumping to his feet, he runs for the creek, yanking his tunic off as he goes. “Last one in is a mule turd!”
The water feels real good. I wash off the dirt and dust and maybe even some of the misery of the past few weeks. I loosen my hair from its braid and duck underneath the water, wishing I had some of Grada’s mint soap but instead I make do with just running my fingers through my hair. I come back up sputtering and just let myself float. I can hear Finn laughing at the other end ‘cause by now Cat is in the water too, and she’s thinking it’s play time. I listen to their splashing and laughing, an
d my mind starts conjuring up memories of me and Ben back when we were young’uns at the swimming hole. I think about how Ben used to challenge me for everything. He always wanted to be the fastest swimmer, the deepest diver, the highest climber. Most times, I would beat him with little effort, but sometimes, I would let him win just so I could watch his stupid victory dance. I cain’t help but smile as I relive the memories one by one. But then that familiar pain starts blossoming in my chest again, so I shut them off. I don’t want to deal with it right now. Angry at myself and my weakness, I climb out of the creek and busy myself with squeezing the water from my dripping hair. Takes me a while to get dressed ‘cause of being so wet, but finally clothed, I head up the slope. Finn’s still in the water.
“I’m headin’ back,” I say, picking up the iron shooter and two of the water skins.
“Hey! You said you wouldn’t peek,” he yells all offended and hunkers down behind Cat. Sighing, I turn my back to him.
“Sorry. Don’t stay much longer. The snake’s probably charred by now. And don’t forget your water skin.”
I leave him, knowing he’ll be fine with the beast guarding him, and head back in the direction of the camp. The smell of the cooking snake is guide enough, and it ain’t long ‘til I see the light of our campfire flickering through the trees. Before I reach it; however, I get a real strange feeling pounding through my blood. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and right away, I know somebody is there in our camp. We ain’t seen hide nor hair of another person for weeks, yet sure enough I see a shadow moving around our campsite. Stepping softly so as not to make the intruder aware of my presence, I sneak closer.
Shizen. We never thought twice about leaving all our stuff just a laying there for easy picking. I figured for sure there wasn’t another living soul in these dead woods. I was so wrong. The man, least I think it’s a man, is hunched over and pawing through my slingbag. At the sight of that all my fear dissipates, and I get red hot mad. Slowly I step into the clearing, the iron shooter aimed straight for the intruder’s back. My hand is surprisingly rock steady.
“Mister, if you don’t wanna hole in the back of your head, then you best put down my slingbag.”
He quickly stops what he’s doing and stands straight. At least I think he’s standing, but he’s still a good two heads shorter than a normal man should be. He turns around still holding my slingbag but smiling like he’s just here for a neighborly visit. It’s a man for sure; he’s got a shock of gray hair sticking out from under a black, bowl-shaped hat, a wrinkly face, and a long, skinny, gray mustache that hangs nearly to his chin. But he’s so small! I stare. I ain’t ever seen such a small man. He’s no taller than Finn.
“Well, good evening, young lady. This is quite the pleasant surprise, I must say.”
His tone is mild and friendly. I don’t know what to make of him. I realize my mouth is hanging open, and I shut it with a snap. Wordlessly, I keep staring.
“Er … do you mind pointing that pistol in another direction? They do tend to make me a bit nervous, you see, especially when pointed directly at me,” he says with a little laugh.
His reminding me of the iron shooter brings my senses back, and I wave it at him angrily.
“No, you put down my slingbag first,” I say.
“Whatever you say, my dear.” He lays the bag on the ground and holds his hands up in the air. “There, now will you please put that offending piece of weaponry away?”
I sure as hell got no intention of doing that.
“Are you a mutie?” I blurt out. I need to know ‘cause I cain’t understand why he’s so tiny.
He looks back at me kind of offended I think, and raises one bushy brow.
“No, I most certainly am not. Are you?” he asks.
“What? No, I ain’t a mutie,” I say. “I’m normal.”
He laughs then, like I said something side-splitting funny.
“Ah, normal. That word is a conundrum, is it not? For surely normal stands in the eye of the beholder. And since we all have our own unique perspectives … well then, wouldn’t we all consider ourselves normal?”
Huh? I hope he ain’t waiting for an answer to that line of gibberish ‘cause I don’t even know what he’s asking. Nope, he isn’t expecting me to answer ‘cause he goes right on talking.
“I have been called many names in my years, my dear: dwarf, half-man, imp, even jester at times, but never a mutant. You are very amusing.” He points to the iron shooter again. “Truly, I mean you no harm.”
He talks so peculiar I cain’t decide if he’s a threat or not.
“Why were you lookin’ through my slingbag then if you ain’t aimin’ to rob us?”
“Us? You are not alone? Where is the rest of your party?” he asks.
Shizen. I shouldn’t have said that. But it don’t matter none ‘cause just at that time, Finn and Cat come crashing through the trees, full speed. They must have heard the stranger’s voice. Finn looks all scared and worried and runs right to my side, but Cat heads straight for what she perceives as the threat before me or Finn can hold her back. But she don’t hurt the half-man. She don’t even get close enough to lay a paw on him ‘cause he takes one look at the charging beast, lets out this gods-awful shriek, and falls right to the ground in a dead faint. Ain’t never seen a man faint before either. Well, I’ll be.
“What is he, Tara?” Finn is whispering. Don’t know why. The stranger’s out cold; he ain’t gonna hear him. I approach the man on the ground slowly and nudge him with my boot. He groans and stirs a little. I figure if we don’t want him passing out again when he does wake up, we’d best get Cat out of his eye view, so I shoo the beast away from the stranger. She don’t want to go. She’s sniffing the man as curious as the rest of us, but Finn calls her over and she obeys. She goes and sits calmly by the boy’s side like she never just scared the little man to death. I nudge him again, still pointing the iron shooter at him. I ain’t taking no chance that he may be faking. After a bit, he opens his eyes and stares up at me. I back off a pace.
“You’re okay,” I say. “The beast won’t hurt you. Not unless we tell it to.”
I watch as his memories come flooding back to him, and he bolts upright looking around wildly. Finn is keeping Cat firmly by his side, but the boy himself is staring all wide-eyed.
“That’s a … a devil cat!” the little man says like he cain’t believe what he’s seeing. I don’t know who is more awestruck: him or Finn.
“Aye, that it is,” I say in my scariest voice. “And a mighty vicious one at that if you get to thinkin’ you can rob us again.” I reckon if the iron shooter don’t scare him away, then Cat would do the trick. The stranger watches Finn keeping Cat calm by scratching her ears. Then a peculiar thing happens; he starts smiling and clapping his hands. No … no! He’s supposed to be running away in fear.
“A tamed devil cat. This is extraordinary. I never would have thought it possible. Oh my heavens, this is remarkable.”
He gets to his feet and brushes past me like I ain’t even standing there holding an iron shooter on him. Bold as anything now, he walks over to Finn and Cat.
“It belongs to you, boy?” he asks Finn. The boy just nods, still in wonder of the stranger.
“Extraordinary!” He puts his hand out towards Cat then stops. “May I?”
Finn nods again, and the half-man starts rubbing Cat’s head and ears. Immediately, Cat responds to the stranger by rolling over for a belly scratch. So much for me trying to scare him away with Cat’s viciousness. Not even so much as a growl or baring of the teeth like she had done with me. Traitor, I think.
“Hey,” I yell at his back. “I ain’t forgot I caught you pawin’ through my slingbag.”
“What?” He looks back at me as if he even forgot I was there. “Oh, yes, yes. Forgive my rudeness, my dear. I was not ‘pawing’ through anything. I was just analyzing the situation, deciding if you were friend or foe. It was the smell of your delectable meal cooking that dre
w me to your campsite. You see, I am but a simple traveler such as yourself, just hoping to share of your meal and repay you in kind with a fine tale or two.”
Finn exchanges a look with me. I don’t trust this odd little man, but Finn is grinning like a fool and I know right away he believes him to be harmless. The stranger notices our hesitation.
“Oh please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Winston Phillip the Third. But you may call me what my dearly departed mother so affectionately referred to me as: Tater. Tater the trader, the storyteller, the minstrel, at your service.”
He removes his hat and takes a little bow. Finn is charmed, but I still don’t trust him.
“If you’re a trader, then where are your wares?” I ask.
“Ah, very astute for one so young.”
He taps his nose and smiles at me. I don’t smile back.
“They are just a ways in the wood, packed onto my very trusted companion, my mule Winnie. Named after my dear mother of course. They share the same temperament. Some might even say the same facial features, but that’s a story for another time, yes? I shall fetch her if you like.” He heads for the trees but stops after a couple of steps. “Oh, but can I trust that this magnificent beast will not take my Winnie as a late night snack? As with my mother, I am very attached to my mule, you see.”
Finn finally speaks. “Oh no, Cat won’t eat your mule, mister. She listens to me real good.”
“Wonderful. Then I shall fetch her. And maybe perhaps share in your evening meal?”
“Aye, you can,” says Finn. “There’s lots of snake to go around. You can even camp with us for the night if you like.”
Tater happily claps his hands again and moves off into the woods.
“Finn. What are you doin’?” I say angrily once the odd little man is out of earshot.
He looks at me, dumbfounded. “What?”
“Invitin’ him to eat with us … to camp with us for the night. We don’t know who he is or what he is. I don’t think he’s quite right in the head. He could slit our throats in the night for all we know.” I cain’t believe the boy was foolish enough or stupid enough to do such a thing.
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