The Adventurous Button Thief

Bodkin, the button thief, had known a comfortable, solitary life since she settled in the walls and empty spaces surrounding the Spindle Glow Crossing general store some years ago. The store seemed new then, with sawdust in the eaves, and sticky tar still oozing through some of the roof slats, all long gone now. The Tranquil Forest is infiltrated with fairies and all manner of oddkins, with a font to their realm allowing free travel between the two.

Like all button thieves, Bodkin spent her days repurposing the odds and ends she collected. Over the years, she had left dozens of beautiful gifts for the shopkeeper, creating a silent partnership. They left various treats and trinkets in return. The last gift was a bundle of wire clippings, which inspired her latest project. Collecting scraps of fabric, harvesting spindle fiber from the walls and floorboards of the general store, and spinning the fibers into delicate, glowing yarn had taken months.

She rarely left the safety of her elaborately crafted passages and comfortably appointed rooms, but Bodkin had run into a snag in the pattern. She was missing the crucial tool needed to complete the project. The bodice was finished; a sweetheart neckline in a muted green, structured with some of the wire and tacked up on her dress form.

She wanted a skirt of layered crochet petals made of the spindle fiber yarn. She needed a new crochet hook to continue constructing the magnificent, glowing gown that danced through her dreams. None of the three she already owned would do. One was far too small; it wouldn't even hook the yarn she'd made, and the other two were far too big. They would leave significant gaps in the fabric.

---

Once she had gathered her net bag and carrying strap, Bodkin opened the angel-covered door she built from a chocolate bonbon box. The entrance to her domicile was hidden away in the marigold hedges; it was the perfect starting point for the great twig hunt. At only about six inches tall, the right-sized twig for Bodkin's crochet hook would be only about a third of an inch in length. She needed to find a straight and sturdy stick to whittle into the perfectly sized hook.

Her first discovery was a curious metal tin; it was worn and scratched but bore an image of an upper lip above the bottom half of a red glittery solitaire ruby. She curiously wiggled the tin open.

"What could this be? Ugh, ugh, ugh. Ha! Lip rouge, of course."

She opened the expandable net bag and slipped the tin inside. She was close enough to the entrance of her home that Bodkin wanted to take it back right away. Walking off her original path about a foot, she kept searching on her return trip.

"Ha ha! gotcha."

A fizzlenut shell, all shiny and cleaned of meat, lay nestled amongst the roots of the mystical marigold hedge. Once the woody curving bits that kept the nut in place and free of moisture were ground out, the shell would make a perfect basket. The remaining grounds could be used in a waterproofing preparation. She popped back in the door and dropped off her lucky finds before returning to the path. 

---

She picked up and tossed back several dozen crooked and misshapen sticks. She cracked one in a shower of dust and mites, which she coughed up and waved away. There were many fallen branches and twigs with snagging gnarls. Every one too big, twisty, or deteriorated to be carved and used as a tool.

Bodkin was about to give up her mission for the day when a glint of light shining through a bramble near the edge of the hedge caught her eye. Filtered light beamed in, illuminating the metallic item. Bodkin was wary of grasping fingers searching for the same treasure she had spied.

A broken copper chain bearing a silver dagger, comparable in size to a broadsword, in Bodkin's hands. It lay about a foot from the edge of the hedge line. After much careful observation, she darted forward and wrapped the chain around her waist, secured it with a simple hitch knot, tossed the length loosely draped over her shoulder, and slipped the blade through the chain belt.

As she slowly advanced through the tangle of leaves, Bodkin spotted it. The perfect twig for her crochet hook project; the only problem was its location. As everyone knows, location is everything.

---

The prize she was after was a ways up, still attached to a branch of a sturdy Mystic Marigold bush. Bodkin prepared to scale the shrubby, twining trunk. The branch was only about a foot off the ground, so not impossible to reach, but not easy either. Bodkin had climbed higher than that before, but always up the inside walls, with something soft below to break her fall. The ground under the bush was barren with nobbly roots breaking the surface. The best she could do was kick some dead leaves into a pile before heading up.

Once she'd climbed high enough to reach the branch, more than twice her own height, getting the correct placement to mount the supporting branch was the important thing. Bodkin needed to climb past it, until she was directly over the branch, able to step or sit on it easily. All she would need to do then was break the minuscule branch from its place. The thud awaiting her at the bottom was future Bodkin's problem.

She did her best once she had gotten the branch and tucked it away. Lowering herself slowly, dangling in midair for a moment, she gathered courage and a deep breath. Suddenly, C/R\A/C\K! The branch gave way, and she hit the ground with a resounding thud. All her breath was forced from her lungs, the chain around her digging into her back. She lay there silently, gathering her wits and breath, hoping no rat or squirrel heard all the noise she'd made.

That thought got her moving, and she sprang into action. With quarry in hand, she made a run for the door. Just as she crossed the threshold, Bodkin swore she heard something following her through the bushes. Bodkin hurriedly worked a hairpin into the latch, a security measure she kept near the door.

"That should hold it. If it doesn't - "

As she turned to carry her haul into her apartment, she heard a panicked pounding at the door.

"Help me, please! lemme in, it's commin'! The chitterbink's commin'!"

Bodkin had no idea who it could be behind the door, but if they could beg for help, she knew she should open up and let them in. Without another thought, she grabbed her new sword, slipped it between the hairpin and the latch, and quickly levered the hairpin out, freeing the door.

"Hold it shut while I lock it back in place!"

Bodkin quickly slid the pin back in place and turned to her new companion. A milksplot fairy, who was missing one of her wings. It looked newly injured.

"Oh no, are you ok? Can you make it upstairs to my rooms?"

"I think so."

"Good. Here, let me help you. I can wash and bandage that."

Bodkin offered a shoulder to help her new friend up the stairs.

"I can walk. Thanks for helpin' me. Dunno what I woulda' done if you hadn't a been here. My name's Tinny, what's yours?"

Bodkin had rushed upstairs to start shuffling things into drawers and clearing a surface to set up a bandaging station. She ran back to the top of the stairs that Tinny was just cresting to help her in.

"My name's Bodkin. Do you have any family out there? Are you here in town all alone?"

Bodkin brought a bowl of water and some soap to wash the area that needed bandaging. As well as a bit of medicinal poultice to set between the layers, so it wouldn't get infected.

"I was brought in on a milk bottle. Owww, ahh - My family's tryin' to get a bottle when they grabbed the crate I was in and shuttered the wagon up quick like 'fore I could get out. When I finally managed to get out, I was here, and a chitterbink caught my scent, then, 'fore I knew it, I was here gettin' patched up."

"You aren't quite as good as new, but you will live. Do you think the wagon will go back to your farm?"

"I only see it one time in a week. They come early, pick up all those crates of milk. We stopped, must have been six times, and the man with the hat took crates every time. I don't think I can stay outta sight for a whole week on the wagon, 'specially if I can't fly."

"No, and if it comes here after your farm, there's no way to get you back on next week either."

Bodkin's mind was racing. She finally had the material she needed to start work on the petals for her dress. She could let Tinny stay here and heal for a while, until she's ready to go. Or Bodkin could start gathering supplies now, and in a few days, as soon as Tinny was ready, they could set off together to find her farm, to bring her home.

"You had better get some rest. I will start getting things ready. Do you know which way the wagon took you?"

"I think I could remember the way. You got somethin' to mark with? If I mark it out now while the route is fresh in mind, it will be most right."

"Good idea, here is a scrap of fabric and a bit of wrapped coal."

It took three days for Tinny to heal and gain enough strength for them to set out on their journey. By then, Bodkin had finished a number of petals for her dress between treks spent foraging for supplies. She hated to set aside a project once begun, but had no choice. Helping even a stranger was more important than a project, and Tinny wasn't a stranger anymore; she had become a friend.

"I don't think this map could possibly be to scale, but it looks like if we cut across town, then keep a southwest course through the woodswe should get there."

"What "bout gettin' lost? Ain't the road safer?"

Bodkin rummaged through a box of trinkets as she spoke.

"I think it's worth the risk if you're up for the hike. I have a magical compass. If you hold it and concentrate on our destination, it should help us stay on course."

Finally found, she handed the dented and rusting item to Tinny.

"Wowee, that's a nifty little gadget."

"I've gathered up a few other things for you. I have a walking stick, it's sturdy, and the handle is polished. With your wings out of commission, you will no doubt be doing more walking than you ever have before. This will come in handy."

"Thanks, good point. I'll be walking for a while."

"A while, does that mean your wing will grow back?"

"Yep, should do. Donno how long it'll take tho. Grammy Clanger supposedly lost one to a cat as a youngen, and couldn't fly for five winters. "

The table was strewn with travelling gear. Tinny packed her shoulderbag with what little food there was. Bodkin only kept treats on hand. Button thieves were sustained by their creative work, and only ate for pleasure and inspiration. She packed the few cooking tools, the pot and bowl, as well as the first aid kit, medicines, and bandages into her pack. Bodkin packed her rucksack with rain shields, bed rolls to cover properly packed leaves, and the tiny, damaged magical compass ring Bodkin found several years ago.  

---

Once the two had everything they might need, Bodkin handed Tinny a claw knife and armed herself with the sword she discovered the day Tinny found her, before shutting up her home and setting out. Tinny grasped the compass and visualized her own home. The rows of bushes and grazing pasture for the goats that created a thin spot in the forest canopy. The Yellow-painted barn her family regularly raided. When she opened her eyes, the compass was pointing southwest.

"Well, that's about the direction I would expect based on that map you drew. Let's go!"

The morning took them deep into a pungent pine grove. Fallen pine needles mixed with flecks of pine sap and mossy musky earth. Bodkin was used to taking care of where she stepped, avoiding thorns, and hiding from predators, despite having a comfortable home. Tinny wasn't so acquainted with hiking. She stepped in a soft, gooey, golden splatch of resin.

"Ughh... wahh... oh no. I can't get free!"

Bodkin turned just in time to see Tinny's arms launch into a whirling cloud of panic, her single wing fluttering to keep her upright. She darted back, taking hold of Tinny's hand and helping to steady her.

"Calm down, I'll get something to help."

Bodkin dashed for the long, broad leaf of a Pixie Orchid and the scoop-shaped scale of a pinecone that had been expertly dismantled by a hungry squirrel hunting for pine nuts. She started deftly scooping the sap away from Tinny's foot, wiping it onto the waxy leaf. When Bodkin was through, the foot wasn't perfectly clean, but being a little sticky was better than being stuck. Bodkin bent the stem of the Orchid, so Tinny could pluck the slipper-shaped blossom from the end and slip her foot in. She could avoid every sharp or dirty bit of detritus getting stuck to her sole that way.

---

On the third day of travelling through the forest, the two awoke to a circling screech. They sprang up, running in two different directions. Bodkin dove into some scrubby bushes, and Tinny found a hollow in a tree. The Shock Hawk dove, terrifying both into emitting a tiny inhaling squeal. Fortunately for the journeying friends, it snapped up a Blue Shrew and departed.

"Tinny! You alright?"

"I'm fine, you in one piece?"

They cautiously walked back out into the clearing towards the sound of each other's voices. Bodkin gathered medicinal flowers as she travelled. They met back at their small camp, and Bodkin made a new poltice and rewrapped Tinny's wound. It was healing well, and with a little luck, the two hoped to make it to the farm by nightfall.

"We're real close now, I can smell the fizzlenut orchard. It's the next farm over from ours. In the winter, you can hear the crushed nuts fizzlin' in the dirt."

"Alright, then let's get going."

It wasn't an hour past lunchtime when they heard the goats bleating and smelled the pieberry brambles. Tinny could barely contain her excitement, picking up the pace, but Bodkin tried to keep calm. They still had to cross the big road, and make it past what sounded like a stray dog.

"You're right. How we gonna get past without gettin' snapped up?"

"That's what this is for."

Bodkin pulled out a corked bottle; she had been slipping scraps of Tinny's food, pungent plants, and small bones from the remains of animals' meals they came across.

"Wondered what you was doin' with all that. It's a stink bomb?"

"To us. It should attract the dog's attention while we make a run for it."

As soon as they made it to the road, the sound of the dog's nails on the gravel sent a chill down their spines. Tinny started across first, as fast as she could go, while Bodkin slowly walked behind. As soon as the dog made it close enough to spot, Bodkin threw the bottle as far as she could and ran. The sound of it shattering and the dog sniffling was music to their ears.

They were across the road and running for the fence ringing the goat pasture when the dog left the decoy and charged after them. The hound's jaws snapped and shredded the hem of Bodkin's dress just as she ran beneath the bottom rung of the fence. The dog barked and jumped, but wasn't small enough to fit through or big enough to jump over.

"HA! Can't catch us, you dumb doggy. We made it!"

"You're right, we made it. I can hardly believe it, but we did. So where to? Is your family in the barn? Or do you stay somewhere else?"

"We live in the hay loft of the barn. Not that I can get up there now, but there's a ladder, I can still climb right?"

Walking into the barn was a triumph like Tinny had never known. Her family heard the two opening the hidden door in the side of the barn, and flew down from the hayloft above. The reunion was tearful, but joyous.

"Tinny, my beautiful baby! Oh, my no! What happened to you?"

"I thought you were gone forever! Didja tangle with that old cat like Grammy Clanger?"

"Close, a chitterbink got me. This here's Bodkin. She helped fix me up, and get me home."

Bodkin shuffled nervously; the display of familial affection wasn't something she was accustomed to. And the praise was embarrassing; she had spent little time with others in general. A button thief's life is one of solitude and endless creation. Even her work had garnered little attention, as they were mostly made for the sake of creation.

"It was nothing really. "

Tinny's mother had to disagree.

"I'll say it was somethin' you brought my baby back! That's the biggest somethin' I can think of. We all thought she was dead, and you returned her almost good as new. You worked some healin' and left the comfort and safety of your own home to bring her back to us."

Tinny's father happily chipped in.

"Tonight we will celebrate! Tinny's return and Bodkin's good work!"

And celebrate they did.

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