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Iselda leaned against the store table like she’d been doing every day since Cornifer’d ventured back into the crossroads. She sighed. When she’d agreed to set up shop in Dirtmouth she had not been prepared for the dull domesticity it entailed. It was a stark contrast to her previous nail-slinging life. Part of her still longed for the rush of danger. Still, the thought of endangering gentle peaceful Cornifer in the crosshairs of such peril stayed her hand when it itched for battle.
She was interrupted from her thoughts by the soft scrape of the door opening. In the entryway stood a small bug, hollow eyes staring up at her. Something about their appearance danced in the back of her mind as important.
The child, for that had to be what they were, had a pale face that was in desperate need of some washing. Their cloak was caked in earth along its hem, no doubt worn from whatever travel the little creature had been up to. And they were little. As they entered the store fully their horns only just managed to peek over the top of the table.
The most captivating detail about them, however, was their eyes, deep black eyes. She was mistaken, she realized, to have called them hollow. Their hollow appearance was only the surface, a glassy case holding untold mysteries, a still ocean hiding the horrors of the deep.
It was those eyes which provided her with the guest’s identity.
Three days ago, when Cornifer’d come to deliver his new map, he told her of a child he’d met wandering the crossroads alone.
“They can’t have seen more than ten winters. Isa” He’d whispered to her that night, all his natural boisterousness forgotten in his worry. “There was hemolymph on the geo they gave me, quite a bit of it. From the husks, I figure.”
“What?” She’d asked.
“I don’t think anyone’s looking out for them.” He’d continued. “No-one worth their salt at least. What kind of parent would let a child wander into infected territory like that? Or, or take from the dead?”
She’d hummed, pulling him closer to her.
“And their eyes,” he’d told her. “Iselda, their eyes.”
Cornifer had been inconsolable in his worry for the poor nymph. The only thing which seemed to bring him any sense of relief was the promise she’d made to keep an eye out for the young wanderer with strange eyes.
And here they were.
“Hello little knight.” She said, trying to swallow her growing trepidation.
Rather than answer verbally, the bug waved their hand in greeting. Their head bounced slightly from side to side giving away their mirth at having been addressed.
“Not a talker then I take it?” she asked, leaning forward slightly on the table.
The child shook their head in agreement with her.
“That’s fine.” She assured. “Plenty of good people don’t have much to say. What can I get for you?”
The rest of the conversation went much the same. The young bug remained quiet but engaged. Goods were exchanged for geo, hemolymph tinged orange from the infection within it still clinging to the hard surface of the stone. Oh god Cornifer was right about the husks then.
As the conversation wound to its natural close, Iselda found herself desperately looking for some way to keep the child longer. If only to protect them from the dangers that lurked beneath the well they were sure to return to.
“I hear you’ve met my husband Cornifer.” She said, grasping at straws. “He’s the one who makes the maps.”
The bug's countenance brightened, and they reached into their cloak. Out of it, they pulled a map of the forgotten crossroads. They laid the paper before her and gestured toward it as if trying to communicate: Yes! Yes! I know him!
She inspected it closer, taking in the scrawl she knew was her husband’s and the additions she assumed came from the little customer in front of her.
“Did you do this?” She asked, pointing to the drawing scrawled over a section of the map. The child ducked their head shyly and nodded.
She hummed in appreciation. Just like Cornifer she thought to herself with a smile.
“It's quite good.” She praised. The bug hesitantly looked up at her.
“If you ever have the mind to, I'd love to have you back in the store. Cornifer is looking for an apprentice, and with sketches as steady as yours I think you’d fit the bill.”
The knight blinked owlishly at her before slowly nodding their head.
“Just think about it.” She told them.
Cornifer was not in fact looking for an apprentice. He was, however, looking for a way to keep an eye on this particular child. If that way happened to present itself in the form of an apprenticeship, she had no doubt he would not hesitate to take advantage of it.
The young one, Ghost she learned they liked to be called, did not accept the internship right away. But they did leave well stocked with ink, paper, and an invitation to stop by anytime night or day. She wished she could’ve given more.
If later she was found clearing space for another nest in their home, well, it never hurt to be prepared.