Dodge Tanner and the Great Blink Mink Accords

Dodge knew the moment he stepped onto his porch. The minks had been here. It wasn’t just instinct—it was experience.

His cabin, snugly nestled in his private clearing by the glimmering waters of Lake Hearth, was meant to be his peaceful retreat. Instead, it had become the epicenter of an escalating war of catastrophic proportions. The site of a never-ending battle of wits against a foe more clever and cunning than any of his illustrious career.

He began the quick, but careful, process of unlocking all six door locks while dexterously avoiding the half dozen traps expertly placed in and around them. Deftly maneuvering around a handful more snares and a pitfall set around the entryway, he darted inside to observe the damages.

A quick survey of his belongings confirmed it: brightest trinkets gone, defenses ignored, locks simply skipped as if they had never been there at all. Dodge rubbed his temples. No clever raccoon raid—no bear assault, no skilled street thief in the night, Not this cleanly. No, it was his old foes. Blink Minks. Thieving, teleporting nuisances with an insatiable hunger for anything that shined.

Locks, traps, noise deterrents, and even a supposedly foolproof and incredibly expensive “Anti-mink defense system”—all of them had failed. Again. The Blink Minks had outmaneuvered him, their teleportation turning walls into mere suggestions rather than barriers.

He sighed, scanning the damage. His silver belt buckle. His fishing lures. His custom-made brass compass... Gone, lifted right out from under him with their infuriating little paws.

But Dodge had come prepared this time. Enough was enough. Time to exterminate the Mink threat once and for all! He carefully removed his latest invention, freshly delivered from the clever but confused master crafters he had employed.

The mirror lined box trap, a devious contraption designed specifically to baffle the thieving Blink Minks, had finally arrived, a custom commission from a puzzled glassworker and metalsmith who had no idea it was meant to confound creatures that could blink between dimensions. Before he lost the light of the setting sun the trap was in place. Inside, he arranged a tantalizing spread of gleaming fishing lures, the kind they couldn’t resist. Then, he waited.

The irresistibly gleaming trap sprung within the hour.

A younger Blink Mink, unable to escape the alluring lure of the.... lures, popped into existence beneath the boxtrap, its little paws grasping at a fishing lure then, before it could blink away, it found itself entrapped within the mirrored enclosure as the box dropped around them.

The young Mink screeched and flailed within its confines, its blinking ability failing against the perfectly mirrored surfaces. The mink’s whiskers twitched, tail lashing furiously as it bounced from mirrored wall to mirrored wall, unable to teleport free. Dodge Tanner grinned. Finally, leverage.

Dodge folded his arms. He had leverage. Finally.

The hostage negotiation began.

Stepping onto the porch, he held up the mirrored box in one hand so the glowing eyes of the hidden minks in the bushes could see, and pointed dramatically toward the spots where his belongings had gone missing with the other. He made an exaggerated shrug, then a thumbs-down. The Blink Mink family emerged from their burrows, their beady eyes narrowing as they spotted the trapped youngster.

The largest Blink Mink flicked its tail. The rustling behind it grew louder as a veritable army of Minks poured out of dens and his yard erupted in chittering. Dodge knew what was happening—the rest of the minks were gathering to discuss their next step.

One of the elder minks took two steps forward—then blinked behind Dodge’s chair and back as a demonstration. The message was clear:

"We could just steal again!”

Dodge Tanner narrowed his eyes, and mimed tossing the Mink trapped box into the lake.

The chittering started immediately, sharp and frantic.

The opening salvoes had been fired. The charades negotiations had begun.

Dodge threw out his arms dramatically, pointing toward the lake with an exaggerated sweep, then mimed casting a fishing line into the water. He made the motion of reeling in a prize and held up his hands like he was cradling something large and bright. Then, carefully, he slowly shook his fingers like he was dangling something incredibly shiny.

The Blink Mink family stilled, eyes following his movements with terrifying intelligence...

They were listening.

Then, Dodge pointed to his bait of shiny lure, and made skittering hands as if running back towards the Mink burrows, shook his head sternly, thumb pointing down, and pointed to his newly imagined offering—the glittering fish of his best catches with a wide smile and a thumbs up.

His meaning was instantly clear to the startlingly smart water weasels:

“Stop stealing, give me back my belongings, and I will grant you the finest, shiniest fish from my haul.”

The mink kit pressed its paws against the mirrored wall, wide eyes full of plea.

The elder minks glanced at one another, tails flicking in thought. Then, one of them trotted forward—held up Dodge’s silver belt buckle—and placed it delicately on the ground between them.

Dodge nodded, slowly lowering the box safely to the ground.

But he wasn’t finished yet.

Long minutes of vigorous pantomiming and expressive charades later Dodge and a Mink nodded, and Dodge pulled out a lovely trout that the Minks immediately made disappear. As Dodge released the young Blink Mink from his mirrored enclosure, Dodge pointed toward his property’s perimeter, then gestured to the minks. He curled his fingers upward, pantomiming a lookout stance, then made a sharp gesture toward the treeline where the path from Hearthmere arrived on his land.

He even went inside and pulled out his Wayfinders' Guidebook with the artistic rendering of one of the most loyal, dependable, Wayfinder members and, through a series of pointing at the picture and the perimeter, with thumbs down and head shaking, made his message clear.

His expression said everything:

“Join me, and together we shall defend this land against intruders, and keep all the shiny fish for ourselves!”

The Blink Minks turned their heads along the fence-lined perimeter, toward the path route, then back to Dodge, before merging themselves into a large, chirruping, mass.

There was a long pause.

Then the patriarch turned to Dodge, flicked its tail once—twice—three times.

Agreement.

- Dodge would provide the Minks the finest, shiniest, fish from his catch every time he went fishing. (An activity he, and they, well knew he did often!)

- And his new best friends the Minks would work for him. As lookouts. As defenses. As an anti-intruder force against nosy neighbors, unwanted visitors, and most importantly—Senior Wayfinder Grimshaw.

The Blink Mink patriarch tilted his head, then scurried over and made a deliberate show of returning a long missing golden lure, passed down from his Dodge's Grandfather. His prized favorite lure, guaranteed to bring them the shiniest fish

The Blink Mink Accords had been struck.

From that day forward, Dodge Tanner no longer waged war against the teleporting thieves. He had recruited them into his growing empire of defenses. An Army of devious, fish favoring, deterrents.

And dear old Grimshaw? He never stood a chance.