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He had expected to find a junkyard beyond the ridge. What he found was beyond imagining. Rising up from between the crumbled remains of the lost colony was what appeared to be a grove of metal trees. They were formed from the broken bits and pieces of rundown tinkers. What was most amazing was that there were so many of them. More than could ever reasonably been thrown away.
He climbed down the ridge to get a closer look. It was a steep enough decline as to make progress treacherous, but slowly he managed to make his way down to the valley floor and then towards the edge of the metal forest.
The ground was littered with over a generation’s worth of broken items. There was no doubting that this was the dumping ground of yore. But amongst the ancient debris there could also be found newer bits, broken tinkers. On top of the closest pile he noticed one tinker in particular that seemed familiar.
It was a near perfect match to the girl’s description of her tinker, Springs, though one of its legs was broken. It was hard to imagine that it could have made it so far away from home with the impediment, but yet here it was. He scooped the tinker up to inspect it.
Apart from the broken limb, the tinker was in remarkably good shape. The girl must have taken extra special care of it. There were a few recent scuff marks, but overall the tinker was finely polished. He was sure he could get it working again. The leg would be an easy fix, but most important, the spring-core was sound. Every spring-core was unique. While he’d successfully transplanted spring-cores before, invariably the tinker’s temperament would change. If he’d had to change the spring-core, he doubted the girl would have recognized her friend.
He now had what he’d come looking for. He was just turning around to start the long trek back home when a fearsome head appeared over the ridge. The metal monster had returned! He remained rooted with fear as the beast made its awkward return to the Tinkerwood. He was certain these were his final moments.
The monster was no less terrifying in the daylight. Now he could make out each gruesome detail of mismatched metal parts cobbled together to form a hideous whole. The titan lumbered forward. In its clutches, he could see broken tinkers. Did it collect them to add to its monstrous form?
He looked up, way up, as the monster finally reached his location. One swift swipe of its arm and he would be dead. He braced himself for the end. But it never came.
The monster walked by him and with surprising gentleness, deposited the broken tinkers on the pile where he’d found Springs. It was as though he was laying the wound down tinkers to rest. With this task completed, it finally turned its attention to him. The one central eye examined him and quickly focused in on the tinker in his arms.
He held Springs up, “I’ve come to bring this tinker home…” he said with a trembling voice, unsure that the monster would even understand him. “A little girl misses him very much. I’m going to fix him for her.”
The monster stared at him for a long moment. He didn’t dare move, lest it be interpreted poorly. He felt as though the monster was judging him. Finally, a decision was rendered as the monster merely nodded. It did not turn away from him, and instead continued to watch him. He nodded in return and quickly made his way back to the ridge with Springs in hand. He had survived the encounter, but did not wish to prolong it.
The trek home was no less physical, but he walked with renewed vigour born of incredulity and fear. He wondered if anyone would believe his tale of the Tinkerwood and its Undertinker.
