Phineas Wretch

A breeze stirred the utmost branches of the green-needled trees, dislodging a few clumps of snow that scattered towards the ground. The *fump* they made as they struck earth one after another roused Phineas from his reverie and he pushed himself slowly upright from his crouch against the trunk. Behind him lay the forest; to the front, the downward slope on which his flock scrounged for whatever green they could find this time of year. Slim pickin’s this year, he thought as he cast an appraising eye over the half-starved sheep, but all of ‘em should make it till springtide.  I hope, leastways. He clapped his bare hands together in a vain attempt to warm them, as he watched his every breath send steam into the cold air. Better get these there sheep home before the chill really bites.

Striding downhill, he shoved two fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly, signalling Brightness to wheel around to the left of his flock, while a second whistle, lower in pitch, saw old Rex nudge the sheep from behind. Slowly but surely, with a combination of clicks, whistles and growls, the three of them corralled the sheep towards the roughly thrown-up shelter that served as a pen. The last of the sheep inside, the shepherd scratched Brightness behind her ear and held out a little treat of salted meat for her, throwing a second over to Rex. He watched as the low winter sun peeked through a gap in the clouds and began dipping beneath the horizon. He tightened his heavy cloak about himself. Goin’ to be a cold un again tonight; prob’ly already time to head to the Nag’s fer a couple of ales and a warmin’ by tha fire of his.

The two dogs keeping pace easily alongside him, Phineas made the most of the dimming light, trudging through the slush and mud along the rough track towards Knightshold as the snow began to fall once more. He cursed softly and spat on the floor; ah, worst comes to worst, I can kip on the inn floor. As he passed the first outlying house of the village, a tall, slender man called out from its doorway:

“Oi, Phineas! Phineas Wretch!”

Ah, Tommy Foolish, Phineas thought, and he ain’t just Foolish by nature. He’s going to come with me, ain’t he?

Confirming those very fears, Foolish pulled a thick cloak from the peg just inside the door and flung it over his shoulder, before stepping outside and slamming the door heavily. “As I live an’ breathe, you look like a man who’s off fer a drink or two... an’ who’s to blame you on such a freezy night? I shall join ye, so look smart and keep step with me all the ways, fellah!”

Phineas gave a surly nod and a faint grunt which he thought would be clear enough to convey to Tommy that although the village-man’s physical presence would be tolerated, his conversation would not be. Foolish resolutely refused to pick up on the hint.

“Have you heard? No, I s’pose you ain’t, being up on the hill all day. Group of travellers have turned up, and claimed the room at the inn. Funny group an’ all, some look like nobility born’n’bred, whilst others look like they weren’t no better brought up than you or me. Wonder why they came here?”

Foolish spent the next few minutes detailing each member of the group before going on to speculate on why they had come to Knightshold. Phineas half-listened, trying his best to ignore his garrulous companion. Thus his thoughts drifted between the exoticity of noble-born strangers and the familiarity of half-starved sheep. In this half-conscious state, he followed Foolish along the broad main thoroughfare of the village, past old Madge Fuster’s and Tolley Wringneck’s, over the bridge and past the graveyard.

“... and that young lookin’ girl, she’s definitely a noble too. All horsey-faced and hoity-toity... oi, Phineas! What’s yer dog doing?”

Phineas halted suddenly and turned, following Foolish’s pointing hand. Brightness was sat on her haunches about ten yards behind them, cowering with her ears pricked back against her head. She was facing the graveyard.

Darkness had fallen now; the only illumination came from the shuttered windows of the houses. Snow was falling in thick feathers, and the breeze was slow but freezing. Rex loped over to Brightness, who had now sunk to the ground, stomach flat against the earth. The other dog nudged her gently, but at his touch she bared her teeth and gave a low growl. Phineas moved quickly toward her, his face a picture of anxiety.

“What’s wrong, little un?” he cooed softly, lowering his hand to her slowly. She whimpered softly, her fur flat against her back.

“Well, I never! She ain’t one fer misbehavin’ or foolin’, is she, Phin? Wonder if she’s trod on summat or...”
Phineas silenced Foolish with a flick of the hand and a stern glance. Furrowing his brow and bending down, he cajoled his dog gently, stroking the back of her head gently as she continued to yelp. Now, all of a sudden, Rex began to behave oddly too. He started chasing his own tail, spinning round and round violently, faster, faster, faster. Flecks of foam flicked from his mouth and his eyes bulged wider and wider. He spat out a fit of barking and growling and keening and yowling as he spun himself around. Then, all of a sudden, the dog stopped his circling and sprang off, racing into the graveyard at full tilt. Tommy backed away from the scene aghast, retreating until his back pressed against a housewall.

With a quick, disgusted look at Tommy, Phineas quickly fished in his waterproofed knapsack and brought out a small lantern and a piece of firestone. Sheltering the stone from the ever-thickening snowfall, he held it near the lantern’s wick and muttered the word of fire and light. Flame danced across from the stone and caught the wick. Wrapping the stone up, he placed it carefully back in his sack and held the brightly shining lantern above his head. Knowing exactly which answer he would receive, Phineas shot a one word question to Foolish:

“Coming?”

Without waiting for reply, the shepherd turned to the graveyard path and marched through the falling snow into the darkness.
... More coming very soon! ...