Wood Sprites

“It’s not like we don’t have money,” Roach said. “But in Pittsburgh, we use barter a lot instead of cash. It’s a simple way to cut out the middleman who would normally take a big chunk of the profit to collect and redistribute goods. I’ve got a puppy. The guy who wants an elfhound has a half dozen old snowmobiles that are useless eight months out of the year. I know how to set up accounting books so the county won’t hassle you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the cousins. “They know how to cannibalize snowmobiles into something more all-weather. The thing nobody has a lot of are tires, especially ones for ATVs. Harder than sin to come by. We’re sitting around, drinking beer, having a bull session on where we could scrounge up tires, and the little mad scientist starts to giggle.”

A woman walked into camera range, carrying gear that she dropped beside Alexander. “Usually a very terrifying thing, and you want to get out of blast range as quickly as possible, but still be in viewing distance, because it will be worth watching.”

Alexander glared at the woman, who danced away from a halfhearted kick.

Roach took a couple of steps out of reach, too. “A week later, we all had hoverbikes. And of course, the most natural thing in the world is to race them.”

There was a long silence after Roach came to the end of his story. Wyatt waited for more but none was coming. Judging by the looks Roach was giving Alexander, he was vaguely afraid of saying anything else.

“You’re Team Tinker,” Wyatt broke the silence. “Is Tinker the one that invented the hoverbikes? I’ve heard all sorts of wild rumors about Tinker.”

The racing team all froze in place at the question.

“What wild rumors?” Alexander had been in the middle of licking melted ice pop off her fingers.

“Umm.” The camera bobbed as Wyatt accessed his notes. “Umm. The half-elf that runs the general store in McKees Rocks said that Tinker lives in the middle of the river and hands out magical swords to future kings.”

“What?” the entire team half-shouted, half-laughed.

“Yeah, it sounded really Arthurian to me,” Wyatt said. “I talked to a few elves, and they all said that Tinker is a baby wood sprite, which apparently is a race of very clever but dangerous elves or a very clever but dangerous raccoon. My Elvish isn’t that good.”

Roach was making little snorts as he tried to hold in his laughter.

Orville scooped up Alexander as she started to sputter and carried her off-camera.

“One person, an EMT, by the name of Johnnie Be Good, claimed that Tinker fathered most of the half-elves in Pittsburgh and is Blue Sky Montana’s real father.”

Roach lost control of his laughter. After a full minute of laughing, he wiped tears out of his eyes and stated, “That one is utterly true.”

There was a howl of anger and the video went black. Captions explained that Roach had ducked a helmet thrown at him, and it hit the unsuspecting Wyatt instead. His only camera broken, he was unable to continue filming. The team reimbursed him for his camera. There was no indication, however, that they ever told him the truth.

Louise played the interview with Team Tinker over and over again. This was her older twin sister. Their cousin Orville, who obviously was loving and protective and caring. Their close friends that they could count on. A warm and bright happy moment that Louise wanted for herself.

The babies, however, quickly grew bored of it and started to add mini-windows to the screen to show off clips of Alexander and Orville racing on hoverbikes. The mice stood on her shoulders, tugging at her hair and pointing, squeaking excitedly.

“Maybe we can make mini-hoverbikes!” Nikola stated. “They use a gasoline engine only because they need to lift the weight of an adult. If we can figure out what spells Alexander used, we could just stand on top of a magic generator and fly.”

The thought of the four mice zipping around the bedroom like hyper bats felt dangerous. Louise knew that the mice bodies were merely remotely run puppets for the babies, but mini-hoverbikes just seemed to have “will not end well” written all over it. (Even though she had to admit — quietly to herself — that she didn’t know it would. Surely common sense overruled precognition.)

At least they had a completely tested prototype of the robotic mouse. While the babies were still focused on some newly added racing videos, Louise ordered ten thousand mice from the Indonesia factory. Not that they needed that many; it was the smallest number that the manufacturer would take on rush order.

“Lou!” Chuck Norris tugged on Louise’s hair to get her attention. “What does this mean?”

The babies had found a new video. Someone had splintered down the documentary and picked out only the frames of Alexander sucking on the cherry ice pop. They looped the few seconds to prolong the action for two minutes and then ended with her licking her fingers. The title of video was “Why Prince Yardstick loves Tinker.”

She winced. “I’m not sure, but it probably has to do with sex.”