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“Lads, meet Winfred!” Mark said cheerfully, leading along the dishevelled man wearing a relieved smile, a mop of messy, golden, curly hair atop his head with a thick red beard, sparsely placed freckled, and these amber eyes that were something else; eyes like a lion practically. I was hesitant at first, looking over the man who was bundled tight in his dusty trench coat with a red scarf around his neck. He looked just as awkwardly made as the rest of us, lanky and weirdly muscular in places and scrawny in others with tiny wrists and big hands. He didn’t pose any threat to me at first glance.
“You know him?” I asked timidly. Winfred perked up.
“He’s British as well?” The blond man asked, his voice so low it caught me off guard. I suppose I expected him to have a voice closer to mine instead of the hoarse morning-voice sounding one he had. It took me a moment to recognise that this was another Fenlish man.
“No, Burt was born here, Winfred,” Mark told him, looking to the new person. Winfred gave him a nod, his blond curls bouncing with the jerk of his head. I gritted my teeth and looked over to Walt. Their pupils were thin as needles with their ears pricked forward. The aggressive display made my heart-skip a beat. Winfred pushed back a clump of hair and looked back to me, wearing a bright smile, tired darkness under his warm eyes.
“Sorry, your English is very good. I reckon you had to be from London as well,” Winfred apologised. My eyes were briefly distracted by the way he tapped his thumb insistently on the leather of his dirty reins.
“It’s fine,” I told him in a whisper. I watched Winfred’s eyes trail away from me and make contact with the defensive glare Walt wore. Winfred flinched. I looked back to Mark and raised a concerned eyebrow.
“Uh, I do know Winfred. I knew him when he was little kid when I lived in Britain,” Mark explain, switching to German, watching Winfred, his face still facing mine. His eye shown a calm care for this man. Seeing Marquis calm about this man prompted me to relax for the moment. Walt: not so much. Winny let his ears slack down and his posture lower. He gave Walt a small wave, “That’s besides the point, reminisce later. He’s not supposed to be here, he’s wanted and I need to figure out what to do. I’m not letting them arrest him,” Mark detailed. I swallowed hard on my spit. I was never going to claim I was a law abiding citizen but this… this was extreme.
“Mark I… that’s a lot to demand,” I replied, placing a hand behind my neck. “That’s housing someone from the enemy side… that’s one step away from treason.” Mark bit his lip and tilted his head.
“Winfred’s not an enemy. He’s just British,” Mark said.
“Mark… we’re at war with Fenland.”
“Discuss later, I’ll bring Winfred to my house. He’s been out here for months,” Mark said confidently, gathering his reins.
“That’s really not a smart idea. Think about it, what if someone comes along to buy something from my father and they spot him hanging out at the property and report him. All of us will go to jail,” I detailed, staying hush.
“What, you want me to leave him to get arrested?” Mark scoffed.
“I’m not trying to be rude, I get where you’re coming from but that’s too big of a risk!” I insisted. Mark rolled his eye.
“We won’t get caught, Burton. Even if we do, I’ll take the blame for all of it and we’ll be fine,” My friend insisted back. I scoffed, feeling an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. “Besides, Winfred wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I looked back at the rugged man with red and orange leaves in his hair. The man looked like he was taken out the trees himself, his horse matching with it’s bright red coat and long blonde mane with the large tobiano markings extending down from her back. If it wasn’t for the fact my first view of this guy was seeing him being chased down by a bunch of police officers, I’d be fairly mesmerized. I glanced back at Winfred to see him nervously wave at Walt.
“Uh, Marquis, why’s the tiny guy staring at me like he’s ready to rip my throat out of my neck,” Winfred asked timidly.
“Walt, this is Winfred, he’s friendly no need to glare at him like that,” Mark instructed Walt, switching to German for Walt as always. Walt took a moment to squint at the new person before relaxing.
“Hello,” Walt said quietly.
“Is he British?” Winfred asked.
“No, no, Hallo is German, it just sounds like hello” Mark told Winfred.
“Ohhhhhhh” Winfred said with a slow nod. “Hallo,” The bearded man said, waving at Walt. “What's his name again?” He whispered our way.
“Walt,” Mark answered.
“Hallo, Walt!” Winfred beamed, waving again. “Is that right?” He asked our way.
“It works,” Mark shrugged. I was still hesitant to talk to this guy.
“Erh, Winfred, why are you in Germany exactly?” I asked, taking a moment to argue with myself upon my wording before opening my mouth.
“Well, back in July they closed inter-kingdom shipping and I had a letter to give Marquis! So, I figured ‘oh a trip from London to Berlin isn’t too long’ assuming Mark still lived in Berlin- which he doesn’t as I have now learned. Now I’m here!” Winfred explained, taking his hands from his reins to reenact his plight. “I haven’t ate in the last week!” Winfred said with a worried laugh. I watched Marquis’s expression change from content ease to concern as he listened to Winfred. He looked to me and pouted signifying the age-old “can we keep him?” I sighed and mouthed “fine..” to Marquis.
“Uh about that Mark,” Winfred started. “I sorta lost that letter…” he said and kept his anxious grin. Mark shrugged.
“That’s quite alright,” Mark sighed and gave Winfred a pat on the back. “Right, I think it’s a good time to get back to my place. It’s getting dark and I reckon nobody wants to get caught by police!” Mark said, keeping his hand on Winfred’s back for a moment.
“I would love that,” Winfred said with another laugh. I gave him one more glance over and found nothing wrong with him. He seemed like a good guy, Marquis seemed to think so as well. After all, a friend of Marquis was a friend of mine. Walt seemed to have warmed up to the tall blond in that moment.
We began our trek back, taking a pathway we weren’t very accustomed to using. It passed behind a small neighbourhood, the thin trail overgrown with ferns and logs. There were plenty of barking dogs and children playing in their fenced back-garden to distract our horses, most notably was Winfred’s horse. The pinto would flinch and jump at every small noise, eventually kicking back at Spatz. The intense cringe/squint mix on Walt’s face expressed their opinion quite clearly. Winfred tried apologising, trying to explain he doesn’t know how to ride horses, but Mark was quick to hush him with a loud “shhhhh!” Winfred was quick to turn around with his posture tall and stiff. He was coming off as pretty dumb but, I felt pity for him. He seemed exhausted and I knew how disorientated I got when I pulled just one all-nighter that I could let it slide. It was a continuous mix of hushing Winfred and small talk between the three of us who could speak German as we returned to the front gate of my family’s homestead. At the front door of Marquis house we spotted two familiar faces, my father and Mrs. Pfeiffer… Mark cursed and grabbed Winfred’s reins.
“Winfred, quickly go hide in the woods okay? Quick,” Mark hissed breathily, manually turning the tobiano in the opposite direction.
“Lovely, now we get to be lectured!” I said sarcastically as Winfred trotted off.
“Great end to the evening,” Mark scoffed and we followed one another in.
“Those three! Those rats are the ones who keep galloping through our crops!” The shrill voice of the plump old woman that was Mrs. Pfeiffer squawked our way as she pointed a shaky finger towards us. My father, with a deeply unamused look on his face, lifted his head and look our way as we plodded up the gravel.
“Good evening, boys,” My father said through a long sigh, his greyed ears lowering. “How was the ride?”
“Good, thank you,” Marquis replied, parking Robin beside the two. Walt and I parked a little further away, not as willing to take ridiculing from Mrs. Pfeiffer.
“William, you need to monitor those boys more!” Mrs. Pfeiffer hissed whilst Marquis hopped of Robin.
“Mrs. Pfeiffer it’s not my responsibility to watch over three adult men,” My father muttered with his arms crossed. “I’m only responsible for one of them,” He stated, pointing at me. “All he does is follow the other two so yell at them not me.” The cranky old lady huffed and looked at Mark as he put up his stirrups. Mrs. Pfeiffer was absolutely dwarfed in front of Marquis as he turned to her.
“What’s his name?” Mrs. Pfeiffer quickly asked my father.
“Mr.Moulin,” My dad replied flatly.
“First name?”
“I think Mr.Moulin would be the appropriate title, ma’am,” My father replied. Mrs. Pfeiffer growled and brushed him off.
“You-“ she started, pointing up at Marquis. “You need to quit prancing around our fields like you own the damn place! You of all elfen shouldn’t feel like you have the authority to cause such destruction!” She barked, referring to Marquis as dirt. I felt myself getting offended for him.
“Ma’am I sincerely apologise, we won’t do something like that again, we figured this late in the season you would’ve already harvested all of your crops. We didn’t mean to cause any damage,” Mark apologised, stumbling over his words here and there with his long-haired tail flicking at the tip.
“If I catch you in our yard one more time I’ll have my husband deal with you! He’s got a fine collection of guns and we’ll have no issues being drastic…” Mrs. Pfeiffer growled.
“I’m going to have to stop you right there Mrs. Pfeiffer,” My father started, only to be interrupted by the disgruntled man beside me.
“Your husbands on his deathbed! He’s not going to do shit you hag!” Walt shouted, barring their misgrown teeth at her. Mrs. Pfeiffer gasped. Mark’s face went red and he froze up.
“Burt, would you mind smacking Walt over the top of the head?” Mark said timidly. I was reluctant, but gave the scrawny guy more of a full-hand tap at the back of their head to their strawberry blond hair.
“How dare you!” She hissed at Walt.
“I dare quite easily!” Walt said triumphantly. “If you’re gonna be threatening people then I’m going to call you out on your bullshit.” The old lady put a hand on her heart, her jaw hung ajar.
“Walt, shut up!” Mark snapped back at him. Mrs. Pfeiffer scoffed.
“Ma’am, I think you should leave,” My father suggested.
“William, we shouldn’t even let elfen like him be in this side of Deautschria!” She hissed, pointing at Marquis.
“Excuse me?” Mark said. My gut turned and I wrapped my tail close to my side as I began to feel a tad anxious from all of this sudden bickering whilst hiding a “less than clever” Fenlish man just across the street.
“Elfen of his kind have no business here, I’m baffled how you even allow him to live on your property!” She raged on. “I thought you were smarter than this!”
“He’s an honest man who does honest work, I see no issue with him. I think you’re reading too much into him,” My father scoffed.
“Fuck offffff,” Walt whined to Mrs. Pfeiffer with a growl in their voice. I kept quiet.
“Tell that one to mind his manners!” She hissed. It was growing insufferable to hear her repeatedly dodge whatever anyone said.
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” My father rolled his eyes. “He’s just saying what we’re all thinking.” Mrs. Pfeiffer gasped again. My ears perked up.
“What is wrong with all of you! You men taking advantage of an old woman!” She scoffed.
“No, we’re not doing anything of the sorts Mrs. Pfeiffer. We’re just not ignorant, close-minded hags like you who hasn’t accepted the fact we’re not all prim and proper strain Ds like you,” My father said, placing his hands on his lap and tilting his head.
“William, I had respect for you!”
“The feeling is not mutual.”
Mrs. Pfeiffer gasped again. Walt was snickering with a big old smirk on their face.
“Just you wait till I tell my husband about all of you- all of you… all of you rats!” She hissed, turning to leave.
“Good luck with that, I’m sure we’ll have a lot coming from a man who sleeps with a bedpan,” My father remarked, keeping his polite and serious tone. Walt wheezed with their mouth wide. I could see Mark covering his mouth and looking away upon my father’s response. Mrs. Pfeiffer couldn’t craft a response and concluded the confrontation with an annoyed grunt as she began to storm off. Walt took a moment to laugh out loud with their cackle of a mad man. They quickly instructed me to put my hand out to them and once I did they used my hand to do a slow clap as she walked off. The little bearded man held their head high as if they were some posh-gentleman as they clapped at her departure.
I glanced over to catch my father trying to conceal a small smirk as he placed a cigarette in his mouth.
“That was, wow,” Mark said in his shock, taking his hand from his mouth.
“Walt prompted me,” My father shrugged as he lit his cigarette. Mark replied with a slow nod. I was still quite caught off guard.
“You’re welcome!” Walt shouted.
“However, you really need to stop running through their crops. That’s the third time this month and it’s only the tenth,” My dad said lowly.
“Yeh, of course,” Marquis replied, patting Robin’s neck.
“I mean it, next time she comes storming up my driveway you’re going to have to go out there and help her clean up her fields, all three of you,” My father muttered.
“Uh.. will do,” Mark said, processing the idea slowly. I could confidently say I was not planning on hearing that shrill voice nagging at me to plow her poorly-kept field…
“Cigarette?” My dad offered.
“Yeh, might as well…” Mark mumbled.
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