Patchwork People

“What do you mean, gone?!”

Tatterbat yelled at her as he ran toward the boat shed. Pinpin stood outside, holding the door open. She kept turning to look inside, on the off chance that maybe, if she wasn’t looking, their boat would return to where it should be. But try as she might, it remained absent. She could feel her squeaker sink in her chest.

“It’s missing. There’s nothing in the dock.” She said as Tatterbat finally reached her position. She held the door wide to allow him to walk inside. Tatterbat practically barged past her to have a look, charging into the shed and frantically looking around. When he saw the dock, he stared at where the boat should be. He continued to stare for quite some time, placing his hands on his hips and making the occasional huff as his brain rattled to process the information.

“You’re right.” he replied at long last.

Pinpin frowned. “Well, duh.” was all she could say to that comment. For what he was worth, sometimes her friend could be a total cottonbrain.

By the looks of things, the boat hadn’t been gone long. The rope that was supposed to keep it tethered to the ground was floating aimlessly in the water, but remained close to the ledge. Small, damp footprints were barely visible on the wood, going in all sorts of directions. Pinpin couldn’t count how many people there might have been.

“They must’ve gone in a hurry.” Pinpin said, noting the chaotic nature of the prints. Whoever they were, they clearly didn’t have much of a plan to their actions. She was surprised that they’d even managed to take the boat at all.

Tatterbat ran outside and stared down the lake, hoping to see signs of whoever had taken it on the distance. There was nothing, however. The lake was devoid of boats of any kind, with only a few quilt skippers wandering aimlessly nearby. Dejected, he hung his head low, and wandered back to Pinpin.

“Nothing. Now what do we do?” he asked solemnly.

Pinpin thought. The lake was much too wide to simply walk around. By the time they’d reach half-way, it would be night time already. Naturally, turning back was not an option. The thought of losing to someone like Needly was enough to discard that idea. It was much too far to swim, not to mention the water would get them all soggy and heavy, and they’d likely sink to the bottom before making any progress.

She sighed. For once, she was out of ideas. “I don’t know.”

Tatterbat patrolled the room, walking up and down as he pondered for a plan. Pinpin instead sat outside, leaning against the hut as she scanned the landscape for inspiration. An impossible idea was what she needed. Something outlandish that could save them from this situation. And yet, despite the tranquility of the view, with the still waters and whimsical trees, Pinpin remained unable to think. Her thoughts were clouded.

Her belly rumbled in protest, and she patted it to calm it down. Looking up, Pinpin saw that the sun was far past the center of the sky, and realised that in their daring escape through Rugtorn Cliffs, they’d skipped lunch entirely. That would not do. No-one could get anything done on an empty stomach. The snacks didn’t count either, as they’d been burnt to get them up the hill. No wonder she was clueless about the entire scenario.

Slowly, she stood back up, and made her way toward the shed.

“Tatterbat!” she called for him. He was inspecting a wall on the far side of the dock, and turned to face her.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t think on an empty stomach. Let’s eat.”

Tatterbat smirked. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They retreated into the hut by the shed, and took out some snacks from their packs. The two sat beside each other, with the map lying on the floor in front of them as they ate. Pinpin took her time to study the map intensely, trying to decipher some of Yarnfell’s gibberish in hopes that it would give an alternate solution to their problem. Beside her, Tatterbat was doing the same thing, wiping crumbs off himself as he looked at the overall geography for some sort of hidden shortcut they could use as a different route.

As their bellies filled, they were still no close to coming to a solution. Yarnfell’s notes made no mention of anything other than the boat, and there were no shortcuts or alternate routes to be found. For a brief moment, all seemed fruitless. Without the boat, they couldn’t cross the lake. If they walked around it, then they wouldn’t have enough time to get there and back within their time limit. They needed a miracle to get themselves out of this one.

Tatterbat shuffled, as if agitated by something. He opened his mouth, about to speak, but closed it again. He placed a hand on his forehead, tapping it in a rhythm. Pinpin saw his eyes dart to and fro, looking between the map and the window. She was about to ask what was wrong, but Tatterbat got up, and climbed up a box to look outside and toward the lake.

“What’s up?” Pinpin asked. “Thought of something?”

“Hmmm…” Tatterbat replied, surveying the landscape. It was clear he’d spotted something, as he tensed up and turned his head quickly toward Pinpin.

“Hey, we’re adventurers right?”

Pinpin leaned in closer. “Yeah… so?”

“And we’re also the ultimate bug masters, yeah?”

“Of course, duh.” Pinpin smirked. “What’re you plotting?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m being dumb.” Tatterbat sighed, and slumped down on the box beside him.

“No! Go on, I’m interested.”

“Well,” Tatterbat paused, and collected his thoughts. “I was thinking of what you said before, about those quilt skeeters.”

“Quilt skippers” Pinpin corrected him. Now she was interested. Her tail fluffed up in anticipation of whatever outlandish plot Tatterbat had in mind. An inkling of an idea popped into her head, but she wanted to hear him say it, just to be sure.

“Yeah, those. You mentioned people riding them earlier.”

“Yes...”

“I’m thinking to myself, ‘What’s stopping us from doing the same?’”

Pinpin took a second to take in the full extent of the idea. It was wild, to the point where she felt shame for not having thought of it herself. That was something she hadn’t even considered, she was so wrapped up in the idea of boats. Clearly her hunger had stopped her from thinking outside the box.

“Tatterbat…” she began to speak.

“Forget it. I’m being stupid. I’m no good at ideas.”

“...that is AWESOME!”

Tatterbat was caught off guard. He looked at her, somewhat puzzled by Pinpin’s positive response. She leaped up into the air and ran over, causing him to lean back in shock. The very nerve of the idea was insane, but it was right up Pinpin’s street. Excitement tingled in her feet as she jumped up and down, enthralled by this idea.

“Think about it! We’ll be the best catchers in the world if we can pull it off! Can you imagine that?”

Tatterbat gave a nervous grin, and rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know, it was just a passing thought. They say only the best can ride them, anyway.”

Pinpin looked at him. “You’re a genius, Tatterbat. A totally fluffheaded cottonbrain, but a genius. And we are the best! Of course we are.”

She laughed and jumped into him, giving him a huge hug that made him squeak. When she let go, she darted toward the door, grabbing her things in one quick sweep. She kicked the door open, almost taking it off its hinges, before turning back toward Tatterbat, who had been stunned and recovering from the sequence of events.

“Well come on, cottonhead. We better get started before they leave!”

Tatterbat shook his head and came to his senses. Cheering quietly to himself, he leapt to his feet and eagerly followed Pinpin outside, curious as to see just what she had in mind.

Pinpin lead them to the shed, and opened the door to usher him inside. When they were both indoors, she pointed up toward the netting on the top shelf.

“We’ll need some of that. Our own nets are much too small for these bugs.” She said, and Tatterbat jumped up to reach the edge of the netting. He grabbed the corner, but in doing so lost his footing and fell with a thump, bringing most of the net with him and getting tangled up. As he struggled to free himself, Pinpin saw her chance. She shot a smug grin in his direction, before going into the corner to grab the camera from her bag.

“You better not!” Tatterbat shouted in protest.

Pinpin gave an exaggerated, evil laugh as she held out the camera. With a press of a button, she snapped a picture of Tatterbat’s embarrassing situation.

“That’s revenge for earlier!” she said, sticking out her tongue. Tatterbat, however, had stopped paying attention. He was busy trying to untangle himself, cursing quietly as he struggled to get free from the netting. Having taken the shot, Pinpin sneakily put the camera away in her own bag, and helped the poor boy free himself from the net’s snare.

“Phew, thanks.” Tatterbat sighed in relief. “I can see why nets are so effective now.”

“Don’t mention it. Do you have any bug bait on you?” Pinpin asked, excited to move on to the next step.

Tatterbat reached over to his bag. He took out a small carton of Premium Insect-o-Bait and, after shaking it to make sure it was full, handed it over.

“You owe me for this one.” he said, as Pinpin took the bait into her hands. She grabbed a sewing kit from the shelf’s medbox and began to pull the string out, tying the bits of food to it in a long line. After she had done this several times, she cut the cord in two, and tied the pieces to the end of her and Tatterbat’s bug nets.

She held out the net in front of her, proud of her work. Looking at it, Tatterbat saw that Pinpin had created a makeshift fishing rod of sorts, capable of casting bait long distances over water.

“Come on, no time to waste!” Pinpin said, and bounded toward the lake, carrying all the contraptions with her. Near the edge of the water, a couple of quilt skippers were floating on the surface, idling in the afternoon sun. It was time to put her practice to the test. Repeating what she’d done so many times before, Pinpin hid herself in the bushes to observe the target.

The quilt skippers jumped about, with their long, pin-like legs touching the water delicately. Their bodies were made from a circular cushion, with a small piece of silky fabric placed over the top like a saddle. Two knitting pins stuck out from the front like antennae which, according to Pinpin’s books, they used to sense changes in the air around them. Pinpin took good notice of the pins. These bugs were sensitive, and would notice subtle movements; she had to be careful in her actions.

Tatterbat appeared alongside her, watching her movements. Silently, Pinpin gave Tatterbat’s net to him, and mimed the action of casting a fishing line. Tatterbat gave a knowing nod. After counting to three, the two stood up slowly and cast out their bits of string, using their bugnet fishing rods to place the bits softly in the water.

The bait plopped into the water next to the Skippers and floated gently to the top. As more of the string touched the lake, the balls of bait formed a trail, which was part of Pinpin’s plan. Hopefully, the Skippers would take notice of the bait, and once they had eaten one ball, would move down the trail until they were within reach.

She saw the antennae of the closer one twitch, and it briefly darted away, before turning toward the bait. It was being cautious. No matter, Pinpin thought, patience is key during the hunt. She just hoped Tatterbat wouldn’t make any sudden moves. She turned to him, and to her surprise he was deeply concentrated on the matter at hand, with no sign of getting impatient.

The Skipper went over to its companion and nudged it. The two conversed -at least Pinpin thought they were talking, based on their antennae - before slowly creeping over to the first bit of bait. The lure was set.

The closer one paused when next to the ball. Pinpin watched as it inspected the piece of bait, tapping it gently with its long leg, before it nibbled down on the top. Passing the taste test, the Skipper went back for more, eating the bait with a ravenous hunger. The second one followed suit, heading over to the bait that Tatterbat had dropped in, before joining its companion in the feast.

The hook was in place; now was the time for the main event.

With her net in hand, Pinpin jerked the string back. The bait jumped out the water, landing just a bit closer to the shore. Sensing this, the quilt skipper retreated quickly, staying a safe distance away and eyeing up the food suspiciously. Oh knits, Pinpin thought to herself, That was too strong. She waited patiently to see what the Skipper would do next, silently praying that it wouldn’t catch on to their scheme. If she could just get the bait closer to the shoreline, then the last bit would be close enough for her to touch.

Thankfully, the bug remained oblivious, and soon moved back toward the food. Pinpin exhaled a breath of relief. As it came closer, she pulled the string back again, gentler this time, and the Skipper began to follow it close to the shore. Seeing what she was doing, Tatterbat did the same, nudging the bait down a trail and luring his own quilt skipper alongside. They made sure to keep hidden. Stealth was key, even at this crucial moment.

Finally, the bait was close enough. Pinpin stopped jerking the string back, letting the Skippers eat in peace. As they finished one ball of bait, she crossed her fingers. All she could do now was hope they’d be greedy enough to move on to the next. She watched intensely as the Skipper twitched its antennae, making a decision whether or not to carry on. Her breath was held. Any sudden movement now could ruin the entire thing.

The Skipper jumped toward and began to nibble at the next ball. Pinpin gave a long exhale, relieved that her plan was working. This was it. Now she just had to wait.

When the Skippers reached the shoreline, Pinpin reached back and took hold of the fishing net that she’d brought out. It was a large piece, wide enough to cover both bugs and then some, and she passed some to Tatterbat in order to loosen the load. With the Skippers happily eating the bait, Pinpin knew now was the time to strike. They only had one shot.

She turned to Tatterbat and whispered a word of advice that she read in a book long ago. “If we manage this, I have to say this. When we start to ride the bugs, do not grab on to the antennae. They look like handles, but trust me, it’ll just make them lose direction and you’ll fall in the lake.”

Tatterbat gave a strong nod. He was being unusually patient, and Pinpin couldn’t help but feel proud of his ability to wait for so long. She mouthed a countdown to him.

One…. The two started to position themselves, ready to spring the trap and get maximum distance on this throw.

Two… Pinpin’s hands were grabbing on tight to the net as she felt her squeaker pound in her chest. Carefully, she swung her arms back.

Three!

The two leaped out of the reeds, and threw the net over the bugs as fast as they could. The Skippers started to scramble, but they were too slow, and got tangled up within the webbing. As much as they tried to escape, the net held firm, keeping them in place with only themselves and the remnants of bait for company.

Pinpin and Tatterbat erupted into cheers. They jumped about and held their arms strongly in the air, whooping and hugging each other to celebrate their success. Pinpin could barely believe it herself. She didn’t have the slightest clue whether that idea would work or not; it was all based on remnants of info she tried to remember, alongside some natural intuition.

“We. Are. The. BEST!” Tatterbat yelled to the skies, skipping over to their captives as he danced about.

“Ultimate Bug Masters!” Pinpin followed suit, grabbing their things as she went to inspect their new rides. The two quilt skippers were feeling very distraught, and Pinpin saw them jitter about in their ropey prison, alarmed by both the netting and the noise.

“I can’t believe you did that, you genius.” Tatterbat praised Pinpin.

“Oh, it was all your idea! I couldn’t have done it without you.” She replied, her cheek patches turning red as Tatterbat gave a toothy grin. She turned to face the quilt skippers. “How do we go about riding these, then?”

“I thought you knew?” Tatterbat asked.

“I know what you don’t do.” Pinpin admitted. “That’s mostly common sense.”

Tatterbat crouched down next to one and stared into its eyes. “Why don’t we just try sitting on them?” he suggested, “That seems logical, right?.”

“You first.” Pinpin smiled. “I want to get a memory of this.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out the camera. Behind her, Tatterbat nervously made his way toward the Skipper, who had given up on escape and was now motionless on the water. He pulled off the netting with caution, making sure that the bug wouldn’t just flee, and tapped its back with his foot. When it didn’t react, he reached over and sat right on top, holding his breath in anticipation.

Nothing happened. He remained on the bug with perfect balance, sitting rather snugly on the cushiony body. Taking the netting, he moved it far away from his Skipper and looked over at Pinpin.

“Now what?” he asked.

Pinpin turned the camera around, and held it so that both her and Tatterbat were in the shot. With one press, she took a picture of them both, her smiling in close up while Tatterbat looked concerned further behind.

“I guess you just ride. I’m not sure.” Pinpin admitted. She went toward the remaining quilt skipper, who had also accepted its fate and simply looked up at Pinpin as she came closer. As she passed Tatterbat’s bag and net to him, she took her own and carefully climbed onto the bug, keeping all four limbs on it to remain balanced. After composing herself, she sat in a more comfortable position, and they remained there, unmoving.

“Um…”she mumbled to herself. She looked over to Tatterbat, who simply shrugged at her in confusion. For all the effort they went through to capture and mount the bugs, neither of the two ever thought about what it would be like to ride one, and didn’t have the slightest clue how to get going. The Skippers were remaining completely still, with only their pin antennae twitching intermittently.

“Maybe they’re playing dead.” Tatterbat suggested. It seemed like a mighty good possibility. After all, if moving wasn’t going to get them out of this mess, then not moving was the next best thing. But if they couldn’t get these bugs going, then no one would be getting anywhere, and that would simply not do.

Pinpin looked around for inspiration. A piece of bait, still attached to the string, bobbed along the top of the water. Pinpin leaned over and fished it out, holding it in front of her. She examined it thoroughly, watching it rotate slowly around the string. Looking back and forth between it and the quilt skipper, she noticed that it twitched ever so slightly whenever the bait swayed closer to its face. An idea began to form in her mind. Snapping the piece of string to a more reasonable length, Pinpin tied it to the back of her net, and held it out so that the bait dangled a short distance away in front of the Skipper’s head.

The Skipper twitched, sensing the food floating in front of it. It lifted up a leg to try and swat the food, and Pinpin responded by pulling it just slightly out of reach. After a brief pause, the Skipper began to move, trying to reach the bait that seemed to consistently evade its grasp. It jittered forwards slowly, in a jerky motion that made it very hard for Pinpin to keep balanced. But balance or not, Pinpin found herself smiling so hard her stitches almost came loose. They were moving!

It took all her willpower for Pinpin to not shout out in delight. It wasn’t smooth sailing, nor was it comfortable, but it was movement nonetheless. Soon, the quilt skipper started to speed up, clearly agitated by the elusiveness of the food. Before she knew it, Pinpin had managed to travel a good distance away from the shoreline, leaving Tatterbat far behind.

Following her example, Tatterbat proceeded to do the same, leaning into the water to grab some of his own bait and tying it to his net. His Skipper too started moving, more quickly than Pinpin’s, and he swiftly caught up, both of them riding their bugs in the middle of the lake. Water surrounded them on all sides. They were nowhere near safe ground, and Pinpin tried not to think about the extreme danger they were potentially both in. For now, they just had to keep themselves steady without losing the bait.

By tilting her pole left and right, Pinpin found she was able to roughly steer the quilt skipper in a direction of her choice. She was cautious not to turn too sharply, lest she slip over and fall, but with practise she could control the bug - at least, loosely. It was nowhere near accurate, but it allowed them to direct their bugs toward the distant hut on the other side of the lake, where the map told them to go. Tatterbat seemed to be having more trouble with his own, but he managed to stay afloat, maneuvering his Skipper somewhat recklessly above the water as he rocked forwards and back.

At that moment, with the control method understood and with good distance made, Pinpin felt a sense of tranquility. She relaxed herself, letting the bug take charge as they skipped over the lake. There was no breeze or rough waters. The soothing sound of lapping waves took over her mind as she looked out at the smooth plane of Shimmerstring Lake, water all around her. It was calming, in a way, as if for a brief moment she was at one with nature. Small islets came and went, and when she looked into the water, small fish were seen swimming about in it, fleeing whenever she came near.

Neither Pinpin or Tatterbat spoke during their journey. They simply both listened to nature, letting it surround them and guide them along the waters. The quilt skippers too seemed more relaxed, their movements less jerky and more smooth as they followed the alluring reward of food. If she were any more calm, Pinpin felt like she could’ve fallen asleep.

Sunset was starting its daily routine when they finally made it to the other side. The two gently got off their quilt skippers, throwing them the rest of the bait they had as a reward for carrying them such a distance. They looked out among the Shimmerstring Lake, which was now glowing orange as dusk came in, taking in the scenery one last time before they had to move on.

“Can you believe that?” Tatterbat spoke, breaking the silence after so long. His tone was gentle and quiet.

“Barely.” Pinpin admitted. “It all felt like a dream.”

“You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“We were right all along.”

Pinpin looked at him inquisitively. “Huh?”

“Think about it. Who else do we know that could even come close to claiming a feat like what we just did? We ARE the Bug Masters.”

Pinpin smiled. “Yeah, yeah you’re right. I guess we really are the best.”

The two grinned at each other, before heading toward the hut that was waiting for them on the other side.

The shelter looked similar to the one they had come across initially, if not a little more overgrown. The colouring and structure was the same, and it even had the same open-end shed next to it. There was just one difference; one that made Pinpin and Tatterbat much more satisfied.

“The boat!” Pinpin pointed out, seeing it floating freely in the shed. She ran over, and quickly tied it to the dock to make sure it wouldn’t disappear on them once more.

“At least we have transportation back now. I don’t think I have any more bait.” Tatterbat said, shaking his box upside down to no avail. He pouted, all his expensive bait lost.

With the sun setting fast, the two decided it was time to camp out. The hut provided adequate shelter, with a small array of soft rugs and pillows to keep them warm during the frigid night, and the two stocked up on supplies left by previous occupants before they settled down for the evening.

As they got comfy, Pinpin took out the map one last time to see where they were going to go the next day. It was difficult to see in the dark, but it appeared that one last location lay between them and their destination. A place marked simply with scribbles and lines, with scrappily drawn writing next to it. Squinting hard, Pinpin just barely made out the words. The Overgrowth.

“Looks like we’re nearly there.” She said to Tatterbat. When she heard no response, she looked over, only to find that the patchwork boy was already fast asleep under his rug.

With a weary smile, Pinpin put back the map and joined him, ready for the final stretch toward Ragworm tomorrow.