Welcome, you’ve stumbled onto part 5 of The Tori Story Series. If this is the first time you have visited this realm you might want to get caught up.

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“What happened?” Tori grabbed the cloth that hung on the peg beside the fireplace. Not the most sanitary item, as it was a mite dirty and slightly damp. She had used it earlier to wipe out her teacup.

But sanitary or not it was the only rag she had.

“The Forest happened.” The Peddler offered with a wry smile.

Tori laughed and began wiping the blood off of his face. This disturbed the blood clot and caused the blood to flow. Again.

“Oh, gosh. That’s a deep cut.” She remarked stating the obvious. “Hold this and sit.” She pressed the rag firmly against the Peddler’s forehead and placed his hand on the now blood-soaked cloth.

Tori climbed half way up the ladder into the loft where she slept. She reached under the lumpy mat and pulled out one of her most prized possessions. A tiny delicate hand bag made of the finest silk, a gift from Hannah.

For the briefest of moments, Tori paused.

The Queen.

Hannah had been her only friend for those nine short months. The only person brave enough to visit, what with Tori’s sideways reputation. Not that Tori blamed everyone. It was her own doing, for once the rumor mill started she had done everything in her power to fan the flame. In fact, it was she who poured gasoline on it.

But, really, isn’t that to be expected from any great chemist? It goes like this, give a young boy a button and… yes. It will be pushed. Give a chemist some sand and silver fulminate and… well, yes, you guessed it. Fireworks.

It was entirely too much fun.

If a witch is what you want, a witch is what you’ll get. Tori thought.

The problem is, like any experiment, there’s a good chance it will blow up in your face. And blow up it did. For now the people feared her completely as she was scarcely allowed access into the town without having children shriek in terror, vendors close up their shops, or worse yet rotten food thrown in her direction. The food never hit her by the way, though it did hit passerby’s, and Tori never could figure out why. She tried to make the best of it, though. Besides the less people knew of her the better.

Still, Hannah was the only one to see through Tori’s shenanigans and offer her friendship. After all, they two were alike in many ways. Didn’t Hannah herself pretend to be nothing more than a mere peasant when she first arrived at Tori’s door begging for help with her pregnancy?

It wasn’t until the baby arrived that Hannah’s true identity was revealed. Tori should have made the connection. Hannah was a deceiver – a good one, maybe the best.

It takes one to know one.

Tori shook her head to erase the memories and pulled out a needle and thread.

She jumped off the ladder and walked the short distance to the wall covered with dried herbs. Each one labeled meticulously, all in alphabetical order. She studied them for a moment then settled on one.

“This one.” She mumbled to herself separating a few dried stalks from the bunch. She pulled a mortar and pestle from the cupboard and began to grind the herbs to powder. She worked fast, consumed. And all the while she hummed.

The Peddler watched, entranced. He knew all the ancient songs, knew their purpose, knew their strengths and weaknesses. But this one… Familiar, yet different. Was it new? Impossible. There was nothing new under the sun. And yet he couldn’t decipher it’s origins and worse yet its purpose. Was she creating? Again impossible. Even he didn’t know how to do that.

Tori pulled a small flask from her cupboard and mixed the liquid with the powder in the mortal, creating a paste. Suddenly, she turned and grabbed the Peddler’s neck pulling him toward her.

“This is going to sting.” She said but only after applying the paste to the Peddler’s wound giving him no time to prepare, consent, or object otherwise.

And sting it did, much like the prick of a thorny locust, although the Peddler was much to proud to show it. A slight wince was all he allowed and that took all the strength he had. The paste bubbled and spread. And much to the Peddler’s surprise, his entire forehead went numb. He felt no pain at all.

“How did you do that?” He asked, but she ignored him. Her face a mask of concentration as she threaded the needle.

“Move.” She commanded still concentrating on the needle. “I can’t move both you and the rocker.”

The Peddler stood and pushed the rocking chair out of the way.

“Lay down.”

The Peddler did, and nearly took up the entire length of the tiny cabin, leaving little to no space for Tori to work.

“Sorry.” She mumbled her apology as she straddled the Peddler’s bare chest in order to sew up his wound. “Let me know if this hurts.”

It was just too much.

For the Peddler that is, because without the physical pain to distract him, he was forced to focus on the only thing that was in front of him which happened to be Tori. Her breasts danced and bobbed just so while she worked. And the sweat from the heat made her too small shirt cling to her body in all the right places.

He wished she had not removed the physical pain – that he could handle. But this – this was more than he could bare.

He reached up to pull her in closer to him. Not that Tori would mind, she didn’t. It is just that she was so focused on her work.

Startled, Tori jerked and the needle pierced the Peddler’s cheek.

“Ow!” The Peddler howled and a single tear trickled down his cheek mingling with the drop of blood from the needle prick. Blood and water.

“Ha! So the friendly giant does know pain, I see. Serves you right.” Tori said setting the needle to the side and pinning the Peddler’s shoulders to the ground. Not that she had the strength to hold him there. She didn’t. “Is this how you treat all the ladies in your travels, Peddler?” She teased. “Be still. I’m almost done.”

The Peddler smiled. What ladies? He thought but didn’t voice. Maybe it was his silence on the matter that made Tori think there were other ladies. There weren’t. Because you see, to the Peddler humans were nothing more than fruit. Fruit he didn’t care for. Fruit, that to be honest, none of his kind cared for. In dimensions, Humans peopled. It is what they did. An integral part of the eco system, dimensions couldn’t thrive without them.

But Tori was another matter altogether. Tori was a fruit he just couldn’t resist. One he feared none of his kind could resist. After all, she was a first.

Tori picked up her needle and finished her work.

“There. All done” she said between gritted teeth for in that moment she was biting down on the thread.

“I was working on that you know.” The Peddler said. He stood, ducking his head so as not to bang it on the sloped roof.

“Working on what?” Tori asked making her way to the hearth in order to get some tea

“Healing.” The Peddler answered. “I just needed a little more time.”

Tori cackled. “Ha! Time. Who has time for that?” She turned to face him, holding the tea out in front of her. “Here, drink this.”

The Peddler sipped the tepid tea.

At once, as if by magic, his wound began to tingle and he felt deep within a healing like none he’d ever experienced before. None he’d ever managed to conjure up himself for certain. Swift.

“You can thank the thorny locust for that.” Tori offered. “It’s her pod that took away your pain and her flower you now drink that helps heal your wound.”

“Thank her? It’s her fault I’m here.”

“Peddler, you tease. How can it be her fault, she’s just a plant. Am I to believe that somehow nature conspired against you in your journey here?” She laughed not knowing or understanding how accurate her question was. “Well, again serves you right. Next time you decide to take something that isn’t yours, I hope she grabs you and never lets you go.”

The Peddler took another sip of tea. “Can’t get much past you can I?”

“Well, even though it’s hard to keep track of all three of my extremely useful tools.” She said sarcastically. “That one I pay special attention to. You know, next time you want to borrow something, you could just ask.”

The Peddler chuckled. For that was really all he could do. There was no way for him to explain, not in any manner that Tori would understand. At least that is what he thought. And quite often it is the thought that makes it so.

“And next time you want an eye full,” Tori added, “spy on someone else.”

The Peddler bolted upright banging his head on the sloped ceiling. “You saw the lens?” He winced rubbing his head.

“I should have known it was you.” Tori accused. “You scared the life out of me, Peddler.”

“That wasn’t my lens, Tori. It was Daniel and Keeper Lain. You saw them? They saw you?”

Tori pursed her lips, puzzled, then asked. “Dimension Lain? We are in Andor. What are you talking about?”

The Peddler didn’t have time to explain. “Tori,” He said grabbing her shoulders. “Did you see the lens?”

“No, Peddler, I didn’t see the lens.” She pushed away his hands and turned to step outside the cabin pulling off her sweat soaked shirt as she went. All at once, it was too hot and she needed fresh air. Maybe a refreshing dip in the cool stream not far from the cabin. “But just because I didn’t see it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. I’m not crazy, you know. I can feel when I’m being watched.”

But the Peddler wasn’t listening. All he heard was ‘I didn’t see the lens’ and maybe that’s because that was all he wanted to hear. And all he saw was her bare back. Distracting. Intoxicating. Inviting?

He relaxed forgetting the lens and all the danger it offered. And that was the trouble with Tori. He followed her out of the cabin and into the sunlight where he hoped he could, at long last, give her a proper hello.

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