Tink Cogsworth's Arc

Chapter 4 of 7

The clockwork friend pressed a hand over the shards in its chest. Tink knew what the pull meant. The frogre who guarded the tree had seen their face. She would come for the stolen wood. And when Tink looked out the workshop window, they saw the mud already spreading across the floorboards by the door. Green mud. It seeped under the crack like something alive. "She's here," Tink whispered. "Griselda. The guardian." There was no time to run with the friend, and nowhere close to hide it. Tink grabbed the old apprentice robes off the hook and threw them over the creature's shoulders. The patched cloth swallowed the glowing chest. "Stay quiet. Stay covered." The door split open. Griselda filled the frame, part frog, part ogre, her yellow eyes fixed on Tink. She did not knock. She did not shout. She stepped inside, and her wide feet left prints of black mud on the boards. "Three shards," she said. "You took three. I counted." Tink stepped in front of the robed figure. "They're powering something now. Something alive." "They feed the spring." Griselda's voice stayed flat. "Not your toy. Give them back." The friend spoke from behind Tink. "They hurt to hold. They want to go home." It pushed past Tink's arm, the hood slipping. The pink light leaked through the seams. "But if I give them back, do I stop?" Griselda studied the creature. Something flickered in her eyes, then hardened. "Not my problem. The wood is mine." She reached out one clawed hand. Tink's mind raced. Fighting her would fail. Bargaining had one path left. "Then I'll bring them back myself," Tink said. "All three. I swear it. Just not tonight. Give me time to find another power source, and the wood returns whole." Griselda's hand stopped. She looked at the robes, the light, the small worried face inside the hood. She had never seen a machine afraid before. "One boot," she said. "I kept a man's boot who lied to me. I'll keep more than a boot from you." She lowered her arm. "You have until the seed dims. Bring them, or I come to the tree line and take your friend apart to get them." She turned and left. The mud stayed on the floor. Tink sagged against the bench. The friend clutched the robes tight. "She'll come back," it said. "She will." Tink looked at the glowing chest and knew the workshop was no longer safe. Griselda knew this place now. They needed somewhere hidden to finish the real work, to find a power source that belonged to no one. Tink thought of the leaning windmill far past the fields, its blades still, its door shut for years. "Not here," Tink said. "We move tonight. I know a place no one watches." The friend nodded and pulled the hood back up. Tink had bought time. Now they had to earn it.