The Last Wanderer

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley, but you can always find one if you know where to look,” Even after years, Matilda Crooke could hear her grandfather’s coarse voice and smell his pipe tobacco. Her eyes prickled as she thought of him, it had been years, yet his loss still ached within her. He had been the best storyteller in Midvale and Matilda’s best friend. Things had seemed so simple back then; life glimpsed through the eyes of the child.

Turning away, surveying the old Crooke house, she bit her lip, unsure where to begin. She wrapped her arms around herself; she could not help but feel the home’s lifelessness. Now that her mother was gone, no one was left to maintain it, and Matilda had returned to Midvale to manage her parent’s estate. The house felt unbearably lonely, so lonely. She could not bring herself to stay the night. So, she boarded at the local Inn. Her younger sister, Milly, had offered to come, but they both knew she could not leave her young children for long. Matilda was the eldest. She would shoulder this burden, dividing her parent’s meager possessions among their surviving children.

Moving from room to room, Matilda took a quick inventory of what needed doing; she found the spaces she and her siblings once inhabited were almost empty. Probably due to her father’s innate sense of practicality, passing away earlier this year. He only kept things so long as they were helpful and had a place. Even the children left the house when they were old enough. Matilda tried not to think of her father, he had been insensitive, but he had loved them all in his way, always providing what they needed.

Grabbing a broom, she swept out the empty children’s rooms and dusted them, ensuring they were clean before closing their doors. She continued cleaning the house, sorting objects into piles for her siblings as she came across them and scouring every surface. The sooner the house was clean, the sooner they could sell it. The idea of selling the home ached Matilda’s heart, but debts needed paying. The only way she or any of her siblings could afford them would be to sell them. Cleaning from early morning to evening, she had barely made a dent in her list. She had managed the larger rooms and kitchen and swept out the hearth.

Moving to her parent’s room, Matilda avoided it all day. Standing at the threshold, she could almost hear her mother scolding her; she had never been allowed inside. Taking a deep breath, Matilda opened the door. There was nothing special about the room, but the siren call of the forbidden overtook her. It held everything an average bedroom would contain; a two-person bed and a wardrobe. Her mother’s jewelry box sat on a shelf at the top.

She opened the jewelry box’s varnished lid. It smelled of cedar and was full of letters and postcards instead of jewelry. Matilda was surprised but should not have been; her mother loved her family. Carefully looking through them, some were from Matilda’s father and others from her grandfather’s travels. She would take them back to the inn with her and read them. Then, reaching into the back of the shelf, her hand brushed something else and pushed to the back of the shelf.

Matilda could not quite grasp whatever it was. But she was determined. Retrieving the chair from beside the hearth, Matilda climbed up on it. She pulled a second case from the back. It was square, about a foot long, and a couple of inches deep. A small brass latch held it shut. Looking at it, she fumbled it, dropping it. When it fell, its lid broke. Cursing beneath her breath, Matilda retrieved its contents: A wax-sealed letter, a pendant made of some oblong blue silver-wrapped stone, a pile of mottled yellow pages bound together with twine, and a journal.

The lid was beyond repair, but the rest of the box seemed intact enough to stow everything. Flicking through the journal, Matilda recognized all the drawings and doodles she had made while listening to her grandfather’s stories. The letter, tucked into the middle, was sealed with a thin red-wax seal. Opening it, she saw her grandfather’s handwriting. Matilda read:

Little Maddi,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know your parents will disapprove, but I need you to know. You seem to have the spirit I do. Stories are in your blood, and I believe you will someday become a Wanderer. There are not many of us left in the world. I’ve seen how eagerly you listen to my stories and retell them to your friends. You do an old man proud. But, Maddi, storytelling has magic and real consequences if the stories die. So, please, take this box and keep telling them. Carry them wherever you go and nurture them with new stories.

Inside this case is a pendant; always carry it with you. I wish I could tell you more, but your parents have not allowed me to teach you our ways. However, the more stories you read and accumulate, the more you will understand.

All my love,

Wanderer Gregory Ipsum

Matilda found joy and tears as she slipped the pendant around her neck. Why would her parents be against her becoming a Wanderer? Why had they hidden this gift from her?

Yawning, she realized how tired she was. She returned to the inn and carried both boxes to her room, stowing them there and ordering a meal.

A strange man came over and sat down beside her. Usually, Matilda would not have tolerated such an intrusion into her personal space, given the emptiness of the seats around them. However, Matilda was too exhausted for confrontation. Then, he began clearing his throat to draw her attention.

“Can I help you?” Matilda frowned, turning to look at him, but she had to suppress a squeak as she did. His uncanny crimson eyes were terrifying. What was he?

“I don’t know.” He smiled, cocking his head at her curiously, “You wear a Wanderer talisman; does that mean you are one?”

“My grandfather was a Wanderer. The necklace was a gift.”

“Splendid,” He grinned a grin that was a bit too wide for his face, clapping his hands together, “My name is Silas Veneer. I want you to tell my story!”

As Matilda sat, pondering his offer, she heard her grandfather’s voice, “There weren’t always dragons in the valley, but you can always find them if you know where to look.”

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