• There were shadows everywhere.
    They played on the wall as the small child sat there and shifted his gaze upon them, hoping to catch a glimpse of a hidden demon within the walls of the small house.
    But, after an hour of watching the shadows with decreased eagerness only brought him to a listless observation now.
    "Miro!" A shrill voice shouted through the small house; shuffling soon followed, with the slosh of what sounded like water.
    He flinched; the magic of the shadows seemed to disappear with his shock back to the present. The boy rushed to his feet and his sharp, bare-footed footsteps pounded against the wooden floor.
    His mother stood impatiently by the door less washroom, her bandanna barely keeping the tired mop of hair out of her eyes. She pointed sharply at a bucket full of dirty water, and beside it, a heap of disgusting rags.
    "What is this?" She demanded, beckoning the small boy to come towards her. But he only stood still, too rigid and scared to come anywhere near her while she spoke so angrily.
    "Miro!" She snapped again.
    The boy blinked in astonishment, and his face instantly dropped into horror. "But, Mama--"
    The woman lashed out with the broom she had tightly in her hands, and it stung across Miro's forearm.
    A mark stayed, even after the angry red had mostly faded. Miro cried out in pain and recoiled from his mother.
    Her gaze redirected him to the bucket--he knew what that meant, and scurried over to his discarded chores.
    She left after a few moments of hateful glares. Left, and when the harsh clop of her wooden shoes faded, Miro was still blinking back angry tears.

    "Geicade! Geicade!" yelled Miro, as he bounded down the dirt path full of the merchants that came to the small town every now and then. He ran as fast as his short, wiry little legs could possibly take him, and still, they weren't a match for the tired mules that littered his path.
    The old merchant's shop was the exact place he was headed, but spite the gathering of the brightly colored tents, mules, and shouting merchants promising happy things, little Miro's path was soon thrown off.
    Miro huffed and panted; his hands were still aching and pulsating from the work, his arm still red from Mama's lashing, and his feet screaming in pain from running barefoot everywhere.
    Still, this didn't stop him. Just the thought of seeing Geicade, the young merchant, made him light up with joy. What amazing thing did Geicade pick up this time, from the Beyond Over the Mountains? Miro became restless; he had waited almost a year now to find out, and no stinky mules or their rude owners were going to stop him.
    "Geicadeeeee!" Miro wailed again, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the bright orange tent top.
    A mask looked down disappointingly at him, but as he soon realized, it was just a mask.
    He laughed at the fear striking mask, poking a raw red finger at the shiny, long black nose.
    The mask shrilled in pain, and, as expected, Miro jumped back in new born fear.
    "Geicade! It's ALIVE!" Miro gasped, dancing around in place.
    The black mask laughed gruffly. It was raised over something--and there, under the black mask, stood a grinning Geicade.
    "Aha! I got you, little puppy!" The merchant teased as he set the mask down.
    Miro frowned at him--it was such a rude thing to play a trick on a child, and even more when he hadn't been expecting it!
    His frown turned into despair, which shifted into eager excitement; it was hard to stay mad at such an unusual character such as Geicade.
    "So?" Miro demanded, slapping his raw palms against the rickety table of which Geicade's items rested upon. "What? What's new?"
    Geicade's grin widened in long anticipation, picking something up from underneath the hidden table. "Patience, dear one," said the merchant wisely.
    "Geicadeeeee!"
    "Okay, okay. Take a look at this," Geicade replied, lifting up a wooden X with his fingers.
    The little boy's eager smile faded rapidly. "...What is it?"
    "This is a thingamabob." The merchant responded matter of factly.
    "Huh?"

    Geicade laughed again, his thin, yet deep laughter echoing through Miro's ears. But it sounded mockingly. "It's connected to a puppet, but I seem to have lost the poor thing..." He said truthfully.
    "Lost a puppet?" Miro replied; it sounded exciting. "How, Geicade?"
    The merchant set the wooden X thingamabob down on the table, and by the look in his eye, was about to launch into one of his amazing stories.

    "There I was, the rain whipping around me and Featherfoot, and the river on the east side of the mountain swelling with mud and water. It was impossible to walk through, to wade through, yet I pushed me and Featherfoot through," Geicade said lowly, his voice rising in falling in held attention of the young boy. "We almost didn't make it either, if it hadn't been for a crocodile that snapped at my leg. I turned around the second I felt it was there, and kicked it so hard in the snout, I swear it cursed at me! The crocodile tried to writhe away, but I dropped Featherfoot's reigns and got down on my hands and knees into the muddy water and wrestled that croc until it practically begged for mercy. It got a few snaps in on me, but nothing too serious that a good bandage couldn't fix. And finally, when I was exhausted and the crocodile was tame enough to back away, it jumped at me again! If it hadn't been for Featherfoot there, I would've easily been croc food!" He paused to take a breath, and Geicade laughed quietly to himself.
    "The storm stopped a little after that, and Featherfoot and I made it through that river, wading in knee-high mud for about more than three miles wide! Just before I thought I couldn't take it anymore, there it was: sweet, sweet civilization. It was a tribe of Midowans, and they welcomed me to their little village like a hero. They brought me to their chief, Runs With Minnows, and he was grinning from ear to ear, I tell you. Turns out, that crocodile had been eating most of the herd around the village and had been starving the tribe for more than a year. I didn't kill it, no, I'm not like that, but I did drive it away farther down the river. Runs With Minnows presented me with that puppet," He went on, rapping his fingers on the little mechanical device thing. "And told me about it's legend. You see, Miro, it's an extraordinarily powerful talisman, meant only to protect the gods themselves. But a wise old man had carved it out of a tree, and it was regarded with such high authority no one dared touch the sacred thing. Runs With Minnows warned me that it was both a blessing and a curse to be around such a sacred thing--that if I was smart, I would stick it in the crocodile's mouth and let it chop the wood to mulch. But I couldn't; it was too priceful to do such a thing. It had gold outlining the arms of the puppet, and the neck as well, it was a gorgeous thing, Miro. I asked them for the name of it, and Runs With Minnows told me it had no name besides 'Puppet'. That it was still an evil work of the old wise man, and had been sent to curse anyone who carried it with them."
    Geicade finished up with a listless shrug. "That's the story of the Puppet."
    Miro was still gaping with excitement; he clapped happily. "Where is the Puppet then, Geicade? Is it lost in the Mountains? Hidden in the river? Did you feed it to the crocodile? Did Featherfoot sit on it?"
    The mule brayed tiredly at his accusation, and then turned her head away again.
    Geicade laughed again, this time booming. "No, no, little puppy. The Puppet is actually here with me--Runs With Minnows severed its link to make sure the evil poured out of it, and that it could never be used again."
    Miro scowled. "Then what good is a puppet you can't control?"
    "Ah, but that's the point of it." Geicade replied wisely. "You're not supposed to control this puppet. It is too filled with power to be put in the hands of one man alone."
    "What about Featherfoot?"
    The man's laugh returned as he patted his mule's head lovingly. "No, even she couldn't hope to control the mystical powers of this strange little puppet. Though I am kind of concerned now as to where it went..."
    He jumped up and down--Geicade's story had made Miro excited. "Can I help you find the puppet? Are you going to name it?"
    "Eventually...maybe before someone buys it. Though I do hope no one does." Geicade said.
    "If I could buy it, I would..." Miro mumbled, a bit sadly.
    Geicade patted the small boy's tangled hair fatherly; his hands smelled of wood and Featherfoot.
    "Now, now, little puppy. It's alright, I wouldn't want to curse you with such a horrid thing. That would be much worse than doing your chores."
    Miro looked up at him doubtingly. "...Twice my chores?" He muttered.
    "Much worse than that. Now, run along...come see me tomorrow and maybe I'll buy you something to eat." Geicade nodded.
    Miro's face turned into a grin again, and without a word, the boy ran off again on the long dirt path.

    {{To Be Continued}}