Well after the sun had set, Cheeryup stole out of her burrow, well-disguised and carrying a satchel. She snuck around the various lanes and alleys of Thimble Down, headed toward her target, a spot in Fell’s Corner. It took her about ten minutes, dodging drunken villagers, stray cats, and a barking dog or two, until she finally reached her destination. The Ghost’s Walk.
The girl knew this spot had once lured the Pie Thief, and she was hoping it would work again. Quickly, she laid out several towels full of blueberry muffins—her mother’s legendary recipe. If this didn’t bring the scoundrel, nothing would, she figured. She scattered the muffins on various windowsills and ledges. Some would be lost to cats and dogs, but one would snag the thief.
Yet instead of staying and waiting for her quarry to arrive, Cheeryup merely left her prizes and disappeared back to her home. As she knew, the villain would soon become apparent enough and then, revenge.
Wolf Pack
“This is the best time of my life!”
Wyll Underfoot had stripped down and jumped into a creek, exhilarated by the pleasure of its cold running current.
His friend Orli laughed, “You do seem to like our Northern way of life. Maybe you are part Dwarf after all!”
The bigger boy leapt into the brisk water, and the youths spent the better part of the late afternoon splashing, washing, and jumping in and out of the chilly stream. For the past several days, Wyll and Orli had trekked ever northwards, surviving on Orli’s expert outdoor skills and Wyll’s none-too-shabby cooking abilities, something he’d quietly picked up from Dorro, though he’d never admit it. He’d been watching his uncle expertly cooking meats, stews, and vegetables, and was surprised how many of those techniques translated to the outdoor campfire.
“I’m getting famished, Orli. I don’t think there’s much rabbit left from lunch?”
“I should take my bow and get busy, since we’ve surely scared all the fish from this creek—and probably the next one, too!” T
Their travels had been blessed with excellent weather and no signs of robbers or goblins. By and large, they hunted all day, tracking game to keep their strength up as they moved northward. Orli was also able to find edible roots and berries to give them sustenance along the way. Wyll was learning a lot from his Dwarf comrade and was more than glad that they’d left the confines of Thimble Down. He regretted leaving on such bad terms with Uncle Dorro. Maybe he’d return some day and put things right, plus he missed Cheeryup—Wyll hoped she’d escaped from Fibbhook in the cave. Knowing her, she did so with ease.
The pair dressed and headed back onto the trail, looking both for supper and a place to camp for the night. They strapped blankets on their backs, as well as basic cooking gear. Both had knives and Orli carried a mighty ash bow and quiver of arrows he’d taken from his father’s burrow back in Thimble Down. Wyll also carried a small fishing rod and lots of extra line and hooks that he’d swiped from the library.
“There!” Orli whispered loudly. Just over the rise, a small doe was grazing in the earth-colored gorse and bracken, attentive to the slightest changes in sound and scent that would signal danger. Luckily for the boys, they were downwind of the gentle creature as they crept closer. As Wyll noticed, Dwarves were almost as quiet as Halflings, despite their size. Orli waved him to hold back as he crept closer to the crest of the hill. He deftly took an arrow and fitted it to his bow, still in the lee of the hillock. He slowly rose on his knees until he could get a clear shot at the animal. Again, fortune was with them, as the doe was faced in the other direction. Wyll watched Orli’s determined face. As the boy had told him, they were taught to bring down game in one shot, for two reasons. One to make the animal suffer as little as possible, and two, to make sure they ate. In his world, there was almost no excuse for a missed shot.
Twang!
Orli’s bow popped, and the arrow disappeared. The Dwarf rose and turned to Wyll, a faint smile on his lips.