The Walker
12

20 years ago...

The boy brandished his stick, waving it with worrying accuracy. Walker watched impassively as the creature warbled and yelped about water, defending what was his, and so on, before reaching forward and neatly plucking the stick from the boy’s grasp.

The lad’s face fell as Walker snapped it easily, and threw it aside.

“Hey! That were my stick!” He sat heavily and began to sob. “It were mine, and it were the best one all ’round ’ere”

Walker sighed inwardly. “Look,” he said, trying to keep his tone soft, “You threatened me, remember?”

The boy stopped sobbing and glared up at him, “You started it, coming down ’ere and trying to get me puddle off’f me. It’s mine!”

He suddenly leapt to his feet and rushed at Walker, who simply grabbed the back of his scruffy shirt and lifted him, keeping him at arm’s length.

The boy swung his arms fruitlessly, “’Ere, lemme go!”

Walker sighed again and rapped the boy lightly on the head with a knuckle, promptly causing him to stop swinging his arms. Walker waited a second, noting the thinness of the boy’s face, the dirty brown hair and tattered ragged clothing. His bright blue eyes regarded Walker intelligently.

“Listen up, lad. How old are you?”

The grubby boy hung in Walker’s grasp, thinking. “I’m... ten. I think. No one tells me. I just count when the leaves come down from the trees.”

Walker looked down at the orphan, skinny in his threadbare vest. “I need a guide around town. Someone to show me the bars, shops, that sort of thing.”

The boy looked slyly up at him. “Put me down an’ I’ll fink about it.”

Walker obliged and, to his surprise, the little boy didn’t run. Instead he placed a hand under his chin theatrically, obviously endeavouring to show deep thoughtfulness.

Walker had no time for games. “Well, boy? What’s your answer?”

The boy grinned up at him, eyes glinting in the sun. “Do it for a penny, mister.”

Walker rolled his eyes behind his visor, but dug into a pocket lining the inside of his cloak. He produced a battered, ancient copper piece. He held it out to the boy, but swiftly withdrew it, just in time. The boy was fast.

He hunkered down, visor level with the boy’s sullen eyes, “You run, boy, and I’ll catch you. Understand? I don’t like being robbed.”

The boy nodded and Walker flicked the coin into the air. He snatched it deftly from the air, and Walker nodded. The boy was fast indeed.

“Come on then, boy, let’s go.”

The boy scowled at the penny, trying to see if it was a fraud. After deciding all was good and proper, he nodded, pointing. “First pub’s up ’ere. Smells a bit funny but they got nice old ciders.”

The two walked up the dusty road, joining the other people wandering through the small town.

The boy piped up. “Wha’s yer name then, mister?”

Walker glanced down at him. “Does it matter? I haven’t asked yours.”

The boy shrugged his skinny shoulders, and they carried on up the dusty road, towards the pub.