Welcome, you’ve stumbled into part 10 of The Tori Story Series. If this is your first visit to this realm you might want to catch up.

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“We just need to get to the place where the trees begin to look the same.” The Peddler smiled at Tori. He couldn’t stop. It was a goofy grin and he knew it.

Whatever new song Tori had sung while sewing him up had done more than just enhance his healing powers. He could still feel the surge, almost like something inside was being rearranged. Only in a good way and it was making him giddy. Did she realize what she had done? Was it intentional?

“Ha! The same. Peddler, look around, all these trees are pretty much the same. It’s a pine forest.” Tori chuckled and shook her head, then continued to mumble somewhat to herself. “Sure, there’s an oak or maple here and there but for the most part—”

The Peddler interrupted her, taking her hand in his and swinging her around so that she stood in front of him. He lowered his giant frame so that their eyes met, “Not the same type of tree, Tori. I mean uniform.”

The sun was beginning to set, beautiful pinks and oranges spread over the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the night creatures took over the day song, coaxing and calling the darkness out of hiding. Each needed their time and place, you know. And soon now, it would be time for dark.

“Where is the flashlight?” The Peddler asked. Releasing her hands, he turned and glanced off into the horizon. Absentmindedly, he ran his hands over his shaved head.

Light was running short.

“You mean the one you gave me forever ago? Peddler, come on, the batteries are dead, have been for ages. Hey, wait! You don’t happen to have batteries in that pack of yours, do you?”

His pack! Of course. Why didn’t he think of it first? The Peddler peeled the pack off his bare back. It was damp from sweat and for the second time that day, he emptied the contents. This time on a slab of thick wood balanced between two columns of flat river stones that Tori called her picnic table.

“Peddler!” Tori squealed. Excited as she rummaged through the pile and pulled out a charger. “Is this what I think it is?”

“A solar-powered cell charger?!” they both said in unison. Only for Tori it came out as a question and the Peddler a statement.

Tori, wide-eyed and thrilled, reached up and grabbed both his cheeks. And she, pulling his face down towards her, planted a kiss right on his lips. As she did it, she breathed out his name. “Oh Peddler.” So that her mouth was slightly open just enough for the Peddler to taste the l with the faintest touch of her tongue.

He drew her closer, enveloping his sinewy arms around her tiny waist. And lifting her up, he wrapped her legs around his body. All the while kissing. Heat and sweat. Sweat and heat. The intoxicating mixture of saliva and breath.

It was she who pulled away first. “Peddler, don’t.” She said. “I didn’t mean…” Then, “It’s been too long…’ And finally, with her head resting on the left side of his forehead. “What about Andor?” The last one more to herself and barely a whisper.

“What about Andor?” The words croaked, crushed and broken, as the Peddler hesitantly lowered Tori out of his embrace and planted her back on the earth. Jealousy rose once again to the surface. But it wasn’t one of fire, more like the resigned loss of one battle in the middle of a long and terrible war.

It was the Peddler’s fault. Bringing Tori to Andor was his idea. Leaving her was his doing. Staying gone, his choice.

“Andor. He’s a friend, kind of. I mean, Peddler…” She let the words trail off and hang there for the briefest of moments. Then changing the subject. “Who cares about Andor? Do you really think we can pick up cell service from Dimension Lain? Is it possible?”

The Peddler sighed and accepted his defeat. “Oh, it’s possible,” he answered. He knew once Tori put an end to a conversation there was no going back. That was her way. And while usually he had a way to force others to speak even when they didn’t want to, his influence held no power over her. Perhaps it was the thing that attracted him the most. He was unable to control her and so he had no control.

It was a different unfamiliar feeling.

“It’s possible if we are close enough to the border, but this is the first step to finding out” he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling. He held the charger in the air while he studied her face—such anticipatory joy. It melted him and soon he forgot Keeper Andor and returned her joy, goofy grin and all.

Some good it would do Tori. Even if they were able to get a faint cell signal, what of it? Who would she call? All her friends were in Belton and that was a completely different grid. As for family, she had none. Except her son, Roan, but he was lost. Even if it was possible to contact old friends, which it wasn’t, it was entirely too dangerous. Putting both parties at risk.

Connecting to Lain’s internet grid, though? Information? Tori longed for it. Even a good book, something to fill her time when the rains set in and she couldn’t work.

The Peddler continued rummaging through his stuff looking for something he could use to activate Lost Things Found. A button from his shirt maybe? Fat chance. Why didn’t he rip his shirt and keep a piece? He sighed.

Had he been anywhere else that’s exactly what he would have done. But around Tori? He never ever did what he should or could or would have done. And it was for this very reason, he had placed her here and left. The reason he stayed gone.

He hoped beyond hope that just because the vial of penicillin had been in contact with some of these items that maybe he could activate a faint connection?

Right about then it hit him. Again.

The spade.

Abruptly the Peddler turned towards Tori, “Where’s the spade?”

“In the back where you left it, I guess.” Tori’s voice fell. She watched as the Peddler gathered all his items together and began shoveling them back into his pack. The muscles in his back rippled while he worked—carved and etched like a fine sculpture. His tanned skin glistened. Perfection.

The Peddler was irresistible, so why resist? She let out a soft, barely audible sigh, overcome by a great longing. What happened with Andor meant nothing to her. Why did she mention him? To hurt the Peddler for staying away? So what that she had used her beauty and influence to trick him into revealing some of his dimension’s secrets. Nothing really happened. She did what needed to be done to save her neck. She would do it again, if it came to that.

The Peddler slung the pack over his shoulder, stood and grabbed Tori by the hand.

“Come on.” He said pulling her around the back.

There, right where he left it, was the spade. Resting against the back of the cabin.

And yes! There was still some dirt left on it from earlier. It was a long shot. Chancy, as all dirt is connected and there was the possibility that it would lead them… well… nowhere. But it was his only hope.

The Peddler began his chant to open a void. He then took the dirt in his hand and sang the song of Lost Things Found, only this time a few notes changed. Tori’s song of healing was so stuck in his head that it began to… influence?

Shocked, the Peddler stopped and tried again. Still, the same twist. A flat or a sharp here and there that didn’t really belong. It wasn’t that it brought any discord—it didn’t. If anything—the new notes enhanced. And the Peddler could feel it. Powerful. Full of Possibility. An Unknown? Impossible.

The Peddler, for the first time ever, felt fear. Genuine and true fear. All was predictable in the Ether. You sing, it responds.

But the rearranging was happening on a deep level and his body was still tingling from healing past. Infusing it’s way into a newness not yet known.

Still, Lost Things Found was an ancient song. One that had never been changed. It had been sung since the beginning of dimensions—passed on for eons.

What would happen if it changed now?

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Dearest,

My apologies… I try to keep these tellings under 1,000 words but it seems the Peddler would have his way this time. I don’t know why but it almost feels like it is completely out of my control…

Until next time.

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