If you would like to find me on campnanowrimo.org, my username is toomanytacos.
Thornfinger placed his belongings at the bottom of his rucksack and swung the bag over is shoulder.
"That was a cool show." Said a voice.
Thornfinger spun around, startled.
In front of him stood a little girl. She wore a brown leather jacket and combat boots, but despite her rugged appearance, she wore jean shorts and a blouse, her red hair tied up with a large cream bow.
She looks to be around nine he thought, but where are her parents?
He glanced around for any sign of any overprotective parents, but none showed to punch his scarred face in.
"I'm Ivy." The girl thrust out a hand. "I'm twelve years old and crazy."
Thornfinger hesitantly took her small hand in his bigger one and shook it.
"Yes, crazy." She continued, answering his unspoken question. "My mother says to introduce myself as twelve years old and insane. She says the two always go together." Her deep green eyes bore into him. Confident and searching, they seemed to examine every inch of him from his sandy ginger hair down to his worn boots.
She is very wise and short for her age, he decided, examining her just as thoroughly as she did him. Adjusting the cloth pack slung over her tiny shoulders she looked him up and down once again just for good measure. "What you did was pretty neat." She stated rather factually. "Do you think you could teach me how?"
"Breath fire?" Thornfinger finally spoke. "It takes time and practice." He shook his head.
"I have time." Ivy said airily. "Where are you headed?"
"North." Shifting from foot to foot, he glanced around anxiously for the girls parents. Surely they didn't want their little daughter talking to a stranger. Much less one that hadn't shaved for a month and breathed fire.
"North?" Ivy exclaimed. "Really? That's where I'm going too! I will travel with you."
"What?" Thornfinger cried in dismay. "No, go home."
Frowning, she protested: "But I am going the same direction as you are - to visit my aunt." The last bit sounded like an after thought.
"I am going on foot. Why don't you use the train?" Thornfinger asked, still unwilling to travel with a child and unable to comprehend any reason someone would want to travel with him.
"Why don't you use the train?" Ivy countered, stomping her foot with impatience.
"Where are your parents?" Thornfinger demanded.
At this Ivy scuffed at the road with her toe. "On vacation in France. They would only just be on the plane by now. I was on my way to the train station when I saw you and stopped to watch the show. Oh and by the by, where did your ferret run off to?"
"Too find some lunch."He answered distractedly "You are not under any circumstances coming with me."
"Yes I am and you can't stop me." She stomped her foot with stubborn determination.
Thornfinger tried very hard in every way to convince her other wise, but the silly girl would not be swayed.
Fine, he thought irritably, I will just have to force her to stay.
He thought about running, but that did not seem very nice, and if she ran after him, she may get lost. London was huge and noisy and dangerous for a little girl. He considered taking her to the police station but the idea didn't appeal to him in any which way and it seemed rather harsh considering the girl had no nearby family to take her. Plus her aunt would be waiting for her.
Having made up his mind, Thornfinger purposely walked off down the road.
"Wait!" Ivy bawled, chasing after him. "Where are you going? North is that way."
"I just need to drop something off first." He whistled to his ferret and the furry little thing emerged from the bushes. "Come along, Waif." Climbing up the man's outstretched arm the ferret slipped into Thornfinger's pack and poked it's head out to hiss at Ivy.
"May I pet her?" Ivy asked, almost in reply,
Thornfinger shot her an irritated look. "What makes you think that it's a female?"
Ivy ignore him. "May I?"
"No." He almost snapped, "She bites."
"So it is a she?"
"Don't talk to me."
The two wound their way through the busy streets of London.
"Why are we here?" Ivy asked when she had spotted the train station.
Thornfinger glanced at her warily. "I told you, I have some business here to take care of. Do you still want to follow me?"
He hoped she would go away, for she surely knew what he planned to do. She was no fool, that he could see.
But she looked at him determinedly and shook her head. She would not let him out of her sight, knowing he would run off as soon as he had the chance.
Instead, she followed him inside.
She marched behind him right up to the ticket counter. She did not bolt when he asked for a child's fare.
However, when he asked her where her aunt lived, she would not tell him.
"One ticket to Birmingham." He said to the lady clerk.
Ivy simply raised her eye brows.
Giving a shrug he thought to him self: Birmingham just seems like a likely place for an aunt to live.
As he took the ticket from the lady he added: "Oh and can you get someone to watch over the girl? I have to be on my way."
"Sure. I'll even do it myself." The young blonde batted her eye lashes at him and he somewhat self-consciously traced the three scars that ran down his cheek.
Inviting Ivy behind the counter with her, the lady assured Thornfinger in the most lengthy and un-assuring way that the "little darling" would be in safe hands until the train arrived.
Thornfinger only nodded his thanks, thinking to himself, the way she carries on, Ivy will have gone before she could even finish one sentence. Ah well.
Ivy gave him a pitiful look as he left and a feeling of regret stabbed him in the heart.
I can not afford to take care of a little girl, he reprimanded himself. Besides, she would not be safe with me.
No, she would not.
Thornfinger hitch hiked his way out of London and soon found himself walking along side a quiet road from there onward.
An occasional car passed and the sun would peek out from behind the grey clouds now and then, though it did not not rain.
Absentmindedly, Thornfinger took a match from his pocket, lit it and popped it into his mouth.
A van drove up beside him. The window rolled down.
"Need a lift, Fire Eater?" Asked a gruff, mocking voice.
Thornfinger calmly spat out the match - unharmed - before turning to the driver. He had no doubt that this giant of a man could rip him limb from limb.
His hands were as large as melons, his shoulders broad and muscular.
"Hallo, Bubba." Thornfinger said, though his heart beat faster and his legs screamed at him to run. It was not that he was especially afraid of the man, he just wasn't overly fond of what followed.
"The boss wants you to pay up." Bubba rubbed the back of his prickly shaved head and sneered.
Thornfinger sighed. "I've told you many times before. I do not have it yet."
Bubba took out a knife and began to clean under his finger nails with it. "Well you'd better get it soon or I may be tempted to carve a couple more designs in that pretty face of yours."
"Give me more time, Bubba." Thornfinger pleaded. "I just need more time."
Lifting his knife, Bubba seemed to cut imaginary lines through the air, pondering. "Fine." He said finally. "But the boss won't be happy. I do not know how much longer I can cut you so much slack, though. You are running out of time, Fire Eater."
With that, Bubba rolled up the window and the van roared away.
"You won't be sorry!" Thornfinger called after it.
The sun was beginning to set when Thornfinger ducked in to the wood that ran along side the road.
After starting a fire, he sat down to a dinner of canned soup.
Waif ran off into the night to find a meal of her own.
"Everything I eat is canned." Thornfinger complained to himself. "Canned soup, canned beans, canned fish, canned fruit."
A twig snapped. He wasn't alone. Waif could not have made so much noise, and there was no way some on as large as Bubba could have snuck up on him like that.
"Who's there?" He called in to the darkness of the trees.
A shadow came in to view. A small shadow.
Thornfinger sighed. He had almost managed to forget about her.
Almost.
Ivy stepped into the fire light.
The man with the scars looked at her with something like respective annoyance. "How did you managed to follow me?" He asked.
Ivy shrugged and dug at the ground with her leather boot. "It wasn't hard really, to get away from the ticket lady. Then I just took a taxi north." She held up a leather wallet. "Thornfinger." She mused. "What kind of name is that?"
Thornfinger patted his pockets in surprise.
Tossing him his wallet, Ivy sat down across the fire from the strange man.
Thornfinger counted the money then slid it safely - or not - in to his pocket. "You owe me." He said, shooting her a meaningful glare.
Ivy simply shrugged. Her stomach complained loudly. She tried oh-so-hard not to stare a Thornfinger's can of soup, but in the end she could not help her self and he handed her the can.
Then he sat ignoring her, hypnotized by the flames as she ate.
Once she had finished, she began to repeat something Thornfinger had said only minutes earlier, only changed it a little and added a tune.
"Canned beans, canned soup;
Canned fish, canned fruit.
That's all he ever gets to eat;
Canned beans, canned fruit."
Thornfinger smiled for the first time. She could not tell if it was amused, forced, or just awkward.
"You really must come with me?" He asked.
Ivy nodded. "Yes."
Thornfinger sighed. "I cannot guarantee your safety. If you get hurt, don't blame me."
"I won't." Ivy said, though she wondered what kind of trouble the strange man could be in.
"Now can you teach me how to eat fire?" Ivy pleaded once they had finished a dinner. "It's almost dark, and you said it would work better in the night."
Thornfinger sighed. "You don't start eating flames straight off; you start little."
He sat in the moss and Ivy squatted next to him, chin resting on her knees. "Like what?" She asked.
The little girl wanted to do what this man did more than anything. Flying balls of fire fascinated her.
"Well," Thornfinger stroked his prickly chin. "you might start by pinching out little fires, or moving your finger through the flame."
Ivy snorted. "I can already do that. Anyone can do that."
"Not everyone." He reminded her impatiently.
"Only because they're afraid."
The man nodded. "True enough."
"I'm not afraid." Ivy jut out her chin stubbornly. "What else could I do?"
Thornfinger began to rummage through his pack, jaw clenched with annoyance.
Ivy noticed that Waif had not yet returned from her hunt.
"You could light matches."
"Of course I can do that." Ivy was becoming impatient. "What else?"
Thornfinger jumped to his feet. "Oh! You are a child! Children should not play with fire!"
Ivy was not alarmed. "But they can, they do and I will."
The fire eater ran his fingers through his sandy ginger hair and paced. "Fine! Eat matches then! I do not care."
Ivy caught the matchbook he threw toward her. "But if you burn yourself don't come crying to me."
With that he walked away, fuming.
Ivy didn't care. She had gotten what she wanted. Taking a match and lighting it, she didn't hesitate before slipping it into her mouth. Her lips and tongue burned. She spat out the match and pressed her hand to her mouth. Her eyes stung but she did not cry. Niether would she give up. She lit another match. Wetting her lips she popped it in to her mouth. It did not hurt so much this time.
When Thornfinger came back, she had used up all the matches and had opened his pack to search for more.
"Get out of there!" He snapped, shooing her away and picking up his pack.
"I'm sorry. I only wanted more matches." Ivy apologized.
He rummaged through the bag, searching for anything missing.
"I didn't take anything." she frowned. "I only wanted matches."
Apparently finding what he wanted, he looked at her. "Used them all up?"
Ivy nodded and grinned. On the ground lay a neat pile of used matches.
The man smirked when he noticed her blistered lips. "Any luck?"
"Almost. I'm not as stupid as you might suppose. What's your trick?"
Thornfinger shrugged. "Spit."
Nodding knowingly, Ivy said: "That's what I thought."
Ivy awoke the next morning to a leathery tongue on her face. "Hallo, Waif."
Placing the furry, white animal beside her, she sat up, stretched her sore muscles and looked around.
Thornfinger was not there.
But he could not have left her, she decided firmly, because he had left his things and Waif.
Sure enough, Thornfinger soon returned.
"You're awake."
"Yes. So are you."
"There's some breakfast for you by my pack."
It was canned fruit.
At this Ivy began to sing.
"Canned beans, canned soup;
canned fish, canned fruit;
That's all we ever get to eat;
Canned fish, canned fruit."
Thornfinger did not say any thing, only threw some dirt over the remains of the fire.
"Are we leaving now?" Ivy asked, watching him.
"Yes."
"May I carry Waif?"
"If she doesn't mind."
"Do you think she will?"
"I don't know. Now shut up and eat your pears."
"I don't think she will." Ivy mumbled, finishing off the can. Handing Thornfinger the tin, she picked up Waif and placed the ferret in her leather ruck sack. The little critter did not protest.
Thornfinger watched her with shielded jealousy and respect.
Waif must not do this for him, Ivy thought.
He turned away and headed in to the trees.
"Wait!" Ivy hurried after him. "Where are you going? The road is that way." She pointed to the east.
"Yes, but we're not using the road."
"Why ever not?"
"It is too dangerous."
"Oh?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
She did not say any thing after that for quite some time.
"Does that frighten you?" Thornfinger asked, some what hopefully.
Ivy shook her head. "Not 'specially." She paused. "What kind of trouble are you in, mister?"
Thornfinger did not answer, only said after a moment: "Don't call me that."
"Thornfinger." Ivy said suddenly. "I need to use the toilet."
"What?" Thornfinger asked, having not really been paying attention.
"I need to go pee." Ivy said.
"Go then." He said. "In a bush some where." He could tell that she was reluctant, but she put on a brave face and went.
Thornfinger waited.
"What do I use to um, wipe?" The little girl called.
"Use a leaf or some thing." He called back, somewhat red in the face.
So is this what if feels like to be a parent or guardian? He thought to himself.
Ivy finished up and the unlikely pair was off again.
It was not yet lunch time when they arrived at a little town. There seemed to be a market set up along the main strip and Ivy insisted on stopping at every thing she saw. She smelled the flowers, she tasted the food samples and she played with the noise makers.
"Please stop." Thornfinger begged finally. "It is so hard to do any thing when you are whizzing about."
"Can't we buy some food though?" Ivy pleaded.
"No."
"Why not?" She whined.
"It is much too expensive and it doesn't last long."
"But it looks so good." The little girl pleaded and pouted, but Thornfinger would not give in.
"All right." Ivy said finally, wiping away tears. They had only just moved on when Ivy went on. "But I would like know. Why do you only eat canned beans, canned soup, canned -"
"I get it."
"- if you hate it so much?"
"I did not say I hated it."
"All right then, dislike it."
"Because it last long, and it is cheep. Why do you ask?" Thornfinger asked impatiently.
"Because there is a pancake house over there advertising free kids meals." Ivy counted on her fingers. "That is nothing for me, and plus I owe you for the taxi and train."
Thornfinger did not have to smell the syrup and bacon twice. "Come on now, we haven't got all day."
"Only lunch." Ivy agreed, skipping after him.
Only later did her realize she had gotten him to do exactly as she had wanted.
"Thornfinger," Ivy said suddenly as she popped the last piece of bacon in to her mouth. "I need to use the restroom."
"Go then." Thornfinger motioned toward the restroom impatiently, unwilling to leave his delicious food for even a second.
The girl went off, unaffected by his brisk words, and Thornfinger was able to finished his buttery pancakes.
Ivy had still not come back by then, but something made him look up and out the window.
Bubba's eyes met his. The huge man was easy to spot, even in the crowded street. He looked tired and beaten. Bubba tossed his knife in the air and traced a line across his throat with his thumb.
Thornfinger nodded. He understood. He had to run.
Jumping up, he ran to the woman's bathroom. He stopped at the door. "Ivy?"
A woman came out, brushing past him with a scornful look.
A little louder: "Ivy?"
He knocked.
No answer.
Please let Bubba not have found her, he thought.
"Yes?" Came the little girl's voice at last.
"We need to go."
"Be right there." The sound of shuffling hands and feet.
Thornfinger glanced through the window. Bubba was crossing the street. "Ivy -"
Another woman pushed passed him out the door with a huff.
"Be right there!" The sound of rushing water.
"No, Ivy. Now!" Thornfinger raised a fist, very nearly ready to bust the door down.
The large man had made it to the sidewalk. He wasn't looking towards the resteraunt, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.
"Coming!" Ivy emerged.
She had hardly taken one step outside the restroom when Thornfinger grabbed her hand and ran for the back exit.
"But we haven't paid!" Ivy insisted.
Pulling her down the back alley, he huffed. "No time!"
As soon as they made it out of town, they once again took to the trees. They ran until Ivy finally complained: "I'm tired. I don't think I could walk another step." And with that she slipped her hand from his and sprawled out on the mossy ground.
It struck Thorn-Finger that the little girl had take all the excitement very well. Most girls would have started to cry. But Ivy was not like most girls. Instead of shying away from anything strange of dangerous, the odd and adventurous attracted this little girl. Instead of pink dresses, this girl wore leather jackets and combat boots. Instead of running away from a stern and unshaven man like Thornfinger, she followed him almost halfway across the country.
No, this girl was anything but ordinary.
"Was there trouble, Thornfinger?"
It took him a moment to realize she had spoken.
"Yes."
But she was already asleep, even though the sun was still high in the sky.
Branches snapped madly. The sound of heavy footfall snapped Thornfinger to attention Leaping to his feet he swept up his pack and shook the napping Ivy roughly awake, heaving the small girl to her feet. He grabbed her hand and whispered: "Run."
And they ran, slowly at first as Ivy wiped sleep from her bleary eyes, then faster as she awoke and sensed Thornfinger's earnesty. She didn't ask any questions. He ran silently, avoiding twigs and crisp leaves, yet Ivy, burdened with tiredness, stumbled over every root and branch.
Note: about five days walk from London to Birmingham
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