Chapter 15

I was twelve years old now, and it was spring again. I’d been growing a lot lately and I’d had to alter my death panther outfit to fit me as I’d put on more than a foot and a half since I’d left town. I’d been able to let out my pants and lengthen them with scraps I had around, but my death panther shirt was more of a vest at this point, buttoned with wooden toggles, with a short sleeved rabbit skin shirt worn beneath it. I'd turned the sleeves from my original death panther shirt into long fingerless gloves that covered the backs of my hands, going all the way back to my elbows. They didn't cover my palms or thumbs so they wouldn't affect my grip. My cloak was still in pretty good repair though, it’d been a bit too long to start with and currently came midway down my calves.

I was pretty nervous since I was about to walk back into the town I was exiled from. Hammer had stopped by with Knick the day before, Knick and Cutter were in town for a couple days to buy iron and supplies. Hammer had mentioned that he barely recognized me, and Knick had agreed, which got me thinking. I might be able to get away with it. I’d always worn my black hair hacked short or shaved entirely when I was younger, and my hair had been growing out for two years. Nowadays I wear it tied back in a ponytail with a piece of furred wolf leather and decorated with a single large black feather. I’d been practicing changing my voice as well, which would emphasize the difference even more. It didn’t hurt that where before I’d smelled of human filth, these days I smelled of smoke and blood from my firepit and the many animals I’d butchered. I didn’t have a lot to do over the long winters other than hunt and work on various crafts, so I’d started talking to myself and filled in both sides of the conversation with different voices. I’m sure it made me sound completely insane, but the ability to change my voice seemed like a potentially useful skill so I honed it like all my other random skills a twelve year old shouldn’t have to have.

I walked down the mountain road into the north end of town with a large bundle of furs on my back like any hunter, not that there were many. Hunters were an odd, solitary breed that had a tendency to disappear one day without a trace, never to be heard from again. Everyone knows how dangerous the forest is.

I was heading to Smudge’s bar in the hope of a bowl of stew I hadn’t had to kill something for. I had a pretty decent chunk of change saved up from Knick’s visits for training and was planning to make some purchases while I was here, but I figured I’d start on familiar territory. I made it almost all the way there, barely garnering a glance from the various townsfolk I passed. My distinctive cloak seemed to be getting more attention than I was. Perfect, it’s all going according to plan.

And then I hit a rather major obstacle in the form of the mayor. He’d been leaning against the wall outside his inn, watching people go about their business. He walked into my path and held out a hand, palm first, to halt me. “Hello there, Hunter. That’s a pretty nice load of skins you got there,” he smiled wide as I came to a stop in front of him. I threw back my hood and glanced back over my right shoulder at the skins, giving him a good long look at my scars as they appeared from under my cloak.

“If you say so,” I rasped breathily, looking back at him. I stared at him expectantly and put my hands on my hatchet and knife where they sat on my belt. The mayor started to take a step back and stopped himself.

His smile was looking a little forced at this point. "If you’re looking to sell, you should try the leatherman three shops down on this side of the street,” he indicated his meaning by pointing.

I glanced in the direction he pointed, looked back at him, and nodded. “Alright,” I continued rasping. “I’m looking for a meal and a drink first though. I hear I should go to Smudge’s bar, where’s that?” I looked around like I’d never been here before.

The mayor pointed over his shoulder, at Smudge’s Bar across the street, with a thumb, scowling. “If you’re after a meal and a drink, I’d recommend the Inn here,” he waved invitingly to the Inn beside us. “The food’s better, and it’s a lot cleaner,” he stated proudly.

“No, thanks,” I responded immediately. “I’ve heard from other hunters that the innkeep is an asshole and overcharges. I’m going to Smudge’s.” I started walking around him, heading pointedly towards Smudge’s Bar and away from the inn.

“Actually, I’M the innkeeper,” the mayor declared, irritated.

“Don’t care,” I rasped back and kept walking.

“Asshole,” I heard the mayor mutter behind me as he walked back to his inn, going inside. I smiled to myself, that went well.

I walked inside Smudge's without hesitation and made my way to the bar where Jeck was cleaning a glass. Hmm, new rag. The old one must’ve finally disintegrated. “Welcome, Hunter. What can I get ya?” asked Jeck in a practiced manner. I pulled off my bundle of skins and tossed them on the floor against the bar and took a stool next to them.

“Food,” I rasped, slapping a copper on the bar. Jeck nodded, made the copper disappear, and headed to the kitchen. He came back out shortly with a bowl of steaming stew and a withered apple. Don’t get fresh apples this time of year. That’s another thing I miss from my last life. I slapped another copper on the bar, “Drink,” Jeck nodded and poured me a drink in the glass he’d been cleaning. It wasn't the good stuff, but it wasn’t the cheapest stuff either. I spooned up the stew and ate it. Maybe my time eating mostly wild game had lowered my palette a bit, but this tasted better than I remembered. Maybe Jeck was finally learning how to cook. It was gone in a hurry, followed by the apple that I ate core and all. I finished my meal by tossing back the drink in one go. “Ahh,” I sighed appreciatively and slammed the glass upside down on the bar. “I think your cooking has gotten better, Jeck.” I hadn’t used the raspy voice this time. Jeck looked at me oddly, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise. I grinned up at him.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Well fuck me, if it ain’t Nameless.” He’d stopped cleaning his glass, I must’ve really surprised him. I laughed at the look on his face.

“Good to see ya, Jeck. Thanks for gettin’ me my knife and coin after that unpleasantness back when. Not to mention gettin’ me away from that asshole guard.” I smiled.

“Good to see you too, boy. Looks like you’ve been livin’ pretty rough out there,” he ran a thumb along his cheek, indicating my scars.

“Oh, it’s not so bad. That said, don’t ever let anybody tell you death panthers ain’t death on four feet.” I chuckled, running my own thumb along the scars and looking past him into the past, remembering the creature that gave them to me.”They ain’t called death panthers for no reason. Mean fuckers, lemme tell ya.”

“Hmph, always said you were tough as old jerky, boy. Good to see ya proving me right. What ya back here for? Mayor’s gonna be pissed if he sees ya,” he said, a bit worried.

I snorted, “Met him out front on my way in. Called him an asshole to his face and he didn’t recognize me, so I think I’m good,” I chuckled and Jeck joined me after a moment.

“You would, wouldn’t ya? And not for the first time neither.” Jeck laughed. He flipped my cup back over and poured me another drink. The good stuff this time. “On the house,”

“Well, thank ya kindly Jeck,” I tossed the drink back, feeling the burn, and slammed the glass back down upside down again. “Just thought I’d stop by for a quick bowl of your delicious stew before I get to selling my skins,” I dropped my voice back to a rasp. “I got a whole load of tha finest skins ya ever seen for sale. Know anybody lookin’ ta buy fer good coin? The mayor said I should try Erbert’s place,”

Jeck shook his head, “He’ll try to fuck ya over for sure. Try his son Norbert out east, second shop before the water gatherers’ places. He’s trying to get out from under his pops, and he needs ‘em pretty bad, especially with the mayor trying to steer folks to his father’s place. Erbert’s paid the mayor off,” he said knowledgeably.”Norbert’ll give ya a good price and make better goods out of em.”

“Norbert’s it is,” I said, getting up and slinging my skins over my shoulder. “Thanks again, Jeck,” I rasped making my way to the door with a wave.

“Remember what I always say, boy.” said Jeck happily from behind me.”Any son of a whore with coin is welcome in Smudge’s Bar.”

I smiled as I left and made my way east to Norbert’s. Jeck was right, I got 9 silvers for the whole haul. My steps were light as I made my way down the street. I got to the smithy and confidently walked in the front door. I’d never been inside before, it was dark and hot with the only light coming from the forge and a single unshuttered window next to the door. I saw Hammer looking at me with wide eyes, he was holding tongs, gripping a piece of red hot metal while his father hit it mechanically with a large hammer. Anvil glanced over for a second before going back to his hammering. “You’ll have to wait, Hunter. I don’t do business while the iron is hot,” his deep voice rumbled at me without interrupting so much as a single stroke.

“Sure, take your time,” I rasped and took up a position leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the door from the window.

“Eyes on your work, boy,” Anvil scolded Hammer.

Hammer quickly looked back to the metal, “Sorry, Father.” They focused on the metal and an axe head slowly materialized between them.

“Quench that and start filing, boy.” Anvil rumbled and then made his way over to me. He towered over me, and I glanced up, throwing back my hood. “What can I make for ya, Hunter? Need some arrowheads? Fish hooks?”

“I’m not a fisherman, and I’m shit with a bow, so no thanks,” I rasped. I pulled out my knife and hatchet and held them out to him, handles first. “Need my metal sharpened by a professional. There’s only so much I can do with a rock.”

Anvil grunted, “Ain’t that the truth,” he responded, taking the knife and hatchet in each hand. He looked the blades over with a knowing eye. “Yeah, they could use some work. Hmm, this is one of Cutter’s blades, you must be a good hunter. And this hatchet, this looks familiar.” I had carved the wooden handle up pretty extensively with pictures of animals, but I knew that wasn’t what he was referring to. “Wait,” he paused and looked me over more closely. “Nameless?” he raised his eyebrows in surprise. I winked at him.

“Folks just call me Hunter. Had a chat with the mayor earlier, and that’s what he called me so that’ll do just fine.” I smiled, amused. “I was hoping to spend no more than four silvers, but I’d also need a saw, if you got a good one that wouldn’t cost me too dearly, and I could use a decent spearhead if that’d fit the budget.” I kept the raspy voice, didn’t want to push Anvil too far. He could always claim he didn’t recognize my face or voice and nobody could say he lied.

Anvil grunted again, and stared at the knife and hatchet, thinking. “Hmm, yeah I think I can do that, but not for four silvers, Hunter,” he emphasized that he was going to be calling me Hunter, ignoring the fact that he knew who I was. “I’ll service your metal myself, you can get the saw and spearhead from the boy, but it’ll cost you five, not four.” Without checking to see if I could afford the upcharge, he took the knife and hatchet to the large stone wheel in the back corner. He started it spinning quickly with a wooden pedal. Shortly thereafter I could hear the grinding as he worked on the hatchet.

I walked over to Hammer. “Your father said to get me a saw and a spearhead, boy,” I rasped with an amused expression breaking through onto my face.

“Fine,” whispered Hammer. “But you know you’re crazy, right?”

“Spend enough time talking to yourself and you’ll go a little crazy too, my friend,” I whispered back. Hammer just sighed and grabbed me a one-handed saw and a decent iron spearhead in short order. I tossed them into my empty pack. Anvil finished up quickly and brought me back my hatchet and knife. I returned them to my belt after a brief examination. I held out a hand containing five silvers and dropped them into his gigantic meaty palm. “You do good work, master smith. Thank ya kindly.” Anvil grunted and turned back to his forge. I gave Hammer a wink, pulled up my hood, and made my way back out into the street with my purchases.

I was four silvers richer than when I got to town and had some new toys too. “Exile this, asshole,” I muttered as I passed the inn on my way out of town, headed back to my camp.