The next morning Market Chipping was in full bustle once again, the previous day's parade cleaned up and the war forgotten for the time being. In front of the Cobbler's shop, a steam car pulled up, the back heavy with luggage. After unloading it all, a large man with a fat, happy belly burst through the door. "Guess who's here?!" he bellowed, his great, bushy mustache quivering happily.

"You're back!" the shop boys cried, rushing to take his things.

Mr. Cobbler stuck out a foot. "What do you think? Western cowboy is all the rage in Kingsbury lately." On his foot was a tanned leather cowboy boot, with sterling silver stirrups and swirling embroidery along the sides. The shop boys ogled over them, complimenting him on his new footwear. "I know, the customers will love them!" he said, handing another shoebox to one of the boys. "Walter? Walter!" he called out, looking into his son's empty work space.

"I'm sorry, sir. Your son hasn't been in all day," one of the boys said.

"Well, that's odd," Mr. Cobbler said, then went to go check on the adjoining house next door. Inside Walter's room, the old man himself sat with a blanket wrapped around his frail body. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep last night, and he was exhausted. A banging came from outside his closed door. "Walter!" he father called in.

"Don't come in, I've got a bad cold!" he answered, not bothering to cover up his old man voice. "I wouldn't want you to catch it!"

Outside, Mr. Cobbler pulled back from the door. "Son, you sound awful!" he said. "Like some ancient old man!"

"I think I'll just stay in bed today. You go on," Walter said from inside his room.

"Well then, if you insist," Mr. Cobbler said, then walked back down the stairs and into the shop.

Meanwhile, Walter had decided it was time to get out of bed. "Up we go," he mumbled to himself, the blanket slipping off him and onto the bed. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he hobbled on over to his small table and mirror. He looked at his reflection and blinked. He was definitely shorter, and his silver-gray hair had receded away from his brow. "Well this isn't so bad, is it?" he asked himself, smiling a little for the first time that day. "You're still in pretty good shape, and your clothes still fit you just fine." Downstairs in the adjoining shop, he could hear the boys laughing together as they started the days work. "But you can't stay here for very much longer like this," he mumbled to himself, glancing at his closed door.

He changed into a fresh pair of clothes (he hadn't bothered to change last night and had slept in the previous day's outfit) and grabbed his jacket and flat cap before opening the door a crack. After making sure no one was upstairs, he quietly slipped out and shut the door. He made his way down the stairs carefully, with what seemed like every bone in his body creaking in protest to his sneaky movements.

Once downstairs he grabbed a red dishcloth and filled it with some bread and cheese for the journey to wherever he was going. He tied the corners together and then left through the back door. Outside was a gaggle of women crowded over one of the penny-papers, talking out the latest news from the capital. "It says that their princess is missing," one of them said, leaning in closer. "And they're blaming us for it!"

"Unbelievable!" another exclaimed.

"Yeah, it says they're going to declare war on us!" A different woman said.

"Oh how terrible," the first one moaned. "Nobody wants a war, it would be awful."

"Well let's hope the princess turns up soon," the third worried.

Walter continued his trip, hobbling over the old bridge that crossed above the railroad tracks. Just as he was about halfway across, the train itself came chugging along the tracks, sending up a huge cloud of smoke over the bridge. Walter came coughing out of the smoke, where there was a young boy on the other side. "Excuse me sir, would you like some help?" he asked.

"No thank you, I'll be fine," he said, making his way off the bridge.

A little while later Walter stood in front of two horses pulling a cart stacked high with bales of hay. "Yeah, there's some room in the back," the driver said, jabbing a thumb towards the back of the cart. "But where are you headed?"

"Just a little farther than where you're going," Walter answered, and a few moments later he was swaying along on the back of the cart, headed away from town and into the Wastelands.

Once they made it as far as an old farming house, Walter got off and began heading down the path that lead into the Wastelands. "You're crazy if you're going out there, Grandpa," a woman in the garden called out to him as he began to walk away. "Nothing out there but witches and wizards."

"Thank you, I'll remember that," Walter called over his shoulder, continuing on despite the woman's warnings.

"He's going to the Wasteland by himself?" Her husband asked, leading a horse into the yard.

"He says he's looking for his brother," she answered, shrugging.

Walter left the couple scratching at their heads and made his way steadily down the path. But after a little ways the path began to go up a steep hill. He soon found himself panting as he continued. Finally deciding to take a break, Walter sat down in the deep spring grass and began to chew on some of the cheese and bread he had packed himself. From here he had a lovely view of all of Market Chipping.

"This is going to take ages if I keep going at this speed," he mumbled to himself. He took another bite of his food. "At least my teeth are still working properly." As he continued to look around, he spotted a sturdy branch poking out of a thick bush. "Well that would make a nice cane," he acknowledged , setting down his food and standing up. Once he had hobbled over to the bush, he grabbed hold of the branch and gave it a tug, but it stuck fast. He sighed. "It might be too big," he mumbled, pulling on it again with more strength. He adjusted his grip on it and pulled even harder, but even still it did not move. He took a few breaths of the hillside air before mumbling, "Well, one suborn branch isn't getting the best of this old guy." Putting all his strength into it, Walter pulled with all his might. With a finally pull, the branch came out of the bush and stood on the end that Walter had just let go of.

Only it wasn't a branch. It was a scarecrow. Its yellow dress whipped in the wind and it wore a pair of old white gloves, and a straw hat with a pink ribbon around it. Walter gasped and shrunk away, but then realized what it was and stopped. "It's just a scarecrow!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were one of the Wizard's henchman! But how are you standing on your own like that?" The scarecrow just looked at him with blank eyes and a wide smile drawn with charcoal. Walter stared back at it until realizing what this scarecrow was made of.

"Your head is a turnip," he said, frowning. "I've always hated turnips, even when I was little." The scarecrow just kept on staring at Walter blankly. "Well, at least you're not upside down anymore," he said, turning back towards his things. "So long."

About half an hour after his encounter with the scarecrow, the wind had picked up, and Walter was still going, having no place to stay for the night. "Oh, it's too cold," he mumbled to himself. "And I've barely moved, I can still see the town."

That's when he heard the hopping.

Walter looked behind him towards the sound and blinked. There, coming towards him, was the scarecrow from before, hopping on her one pole and had something hanging from her arm. "Go away!" Walter said, alarmed. "Stop following me, there's no need to thank me. I'm sure there's some sort of spell on you, and I've had more than enough of sorcery and spells." The scarecrow had stopped. "So just go find some field and stand in it!" Walter said over the wind, then turned back around and kept on going up the hill. The scarecrow stood for a minute, almost like it was watching him, before ignoring Walters request and hopped after

Jul 7, 2014With the wind going against him, Walter was still making hardly any progress. The scarecrow however was much faster and caught up with him once more. Walter had slowed to a stop, and Turniphead dropped a cane by his side. The top was shaped like a bird's head and painted yellow. Walter took it in his hand, and it fit perfectly.

"Thank you, this is wonderful!" he said to Turniphead gratefully. "If you could do me one more thing, could you run and find me a place to stay? It's quite cold out here." The scarecrow stood for a moment, her dress swirling in the wind, before turning around and heading back the way it came, Walter waving at her as she left. When she was gone, Walter snickered to himself. "I seemed to become quite cunning in my old age."

Soon he began to regret not having the scarecrow with him. The wind was stronger than ever, and it was so could there was even a bit of snow falling from the sky. Walter was panting the thin mountain air and was forced to sit down and rest , wrapping his jacket around him tighter. After catching his breath, the sharp smell of wood smoke filled his nostrils. "Smells like a fire," he said, turning towards the smell and getting up. "Maybe there's a cabin nearby."

Just as he was coming over the top of the hill, a loud noise began to mix with the wind, and suddenly there was a giant mash of rooms, boilers and engines walking towards him on skinny metal legs that squeaked and let out steam with every step they took. Walter gasped at the sight.

Just before the thing was about to come right up to him, who should come hopping up but Turniphead herself. "You moron, that's Bay's Castle!" Walter asked with wide eyes. "That is not what I meant when I asked for a place to stay!"

Suddenly that whole Castle was right above them. Coming out of the bottom of the belly was an entryway, with a few stairs and a door. "Is that the way in?" Walter asked, running towards it. The Castle was still moving at an amazing speed for something so huge. Walter managed to grab the railing along the sides of the entry but it was still to high for him to jump onto. "Make up your mind, do you want me to get on or not?" Walter yelled at the castle. With a sudden lurch the bottom of the entry swept Walter up onto the platform, his flat cap flying off into the wind in the process. "My hat!" Walter yelled after it, but turned around anyway and opened the door to the Castle.

Inside Walter's view was blocked by a long staircase leading up to the first floor. Though he couldn't see much, he noticed the soft glow of a gentle fire, and the room was warm and cozy. He turned back towards where Turniphead had gone. "It's nice and warm in here, so I think I'll go inside," he said as the scarecrow caught up with him, his cap in hand. "Oh, my hat! Thank you!" he said, taking it from her. But the Castle was proving too fast for Turniphead to keep up with, and she began to fall behind. "It was a pleasure meeting you, even if you are built from my least favorite vegetable. So long, Turniphead!" And with that, Walter turned around and went inside.

Once inside, Walter slowly lifted his head above the stairway and took a look around. No one was about, so he looked a bit higher. He was in what seemed to be the living room, which consisted of a rickety table stacked high with miscellaneous items, a sofa in a corner, and a small wooden chair in front of a dwindling fire.

Checking one more time to make sure he was alone, Walter climbed the rest of the steps and proceeded to sit in front of the tiny fire, sighing as he took the weight of his tired old legs. He looked at the fire and, noticing how there was very little wood in it, took two small logs and threw them on top of it. The fire caught to it greedily as Walter sat down and looked around him.

"What a dump," Walter mumbled as he settled back into his seat. "This is not what I imagine when I hear the word 'castle'. It looks like a bomb went off."

He wasn't too far off in his description. The tables legs were warped from holding the weight of everything on top of it, and the shelves had papers and bottles shoved into the cubbies. Spiders and their webs hung from everything, and the only light came from the tiny little fire in front of him. Walter settled into his chair and mumbled to himself, "Well, at least nothing scares you much when you're old."

Walter felt his eyes getting heavy as he stared at the fire that was now blazing contently, to the point where he thought he saw two eyes open in the flames. He smiled at this interesting delusion, and his eyes had almost closed all the way when a voice said, "I gotta tell you, man, that is one bad curse."

Walter's eyes flew open and suddenly he was wide awake. He hadn't been imagining it, the fire really had gained a face and was now talking to her in a little male voice. "Curses like that are pretty tough to get rid of, your going to have a hard time with that one," it said as if nothing were unusual.

Walter's eyes widened even more. "The fire spoke," he whispered.

"Let me guess, the curse won't let you talk about?" the face in the flames said.

Walter ignored his question. "Are you Bay? Perhaps in another form?" he asked, leaning in.

"No, I am an extremely powerful fire demon, named Calcifer!" he exclaimed the last part, new flames bursting from his mouth dramatically. He looked like he was next to blushing. "I just like to do that sometimes," he mumbled.

"A fire demon!" Walter exclaimed. "Then you must be able to help break my curse."

Calcifer looked thoughtful. "Maybe, maybe not," he said. "Listen, if you can find a way to break the spell binding me, than I can help break the spell that's on you."

"If you're a demon how do I know I can trust you?" Walter said slyly. "Do you promise to help me if I help you?"

Calcifer gave what looked like a shrug. "Eh, I don't know man, demons don't make promises."

Walter sighed and settled back. "Then go find someone else."

"Come on, you should feel sorry for me!" Calcifer exclaimed. "This stinking spell keeps me trapped here and Bay treats me like a slave, it just burns me up! Always keep the water hot, make the rooms warm, keep the castle moving, come on! You ever tried to move a castle?" Walter's eyes were growing heavy again and he felt himself beginning to nod off during Calcifer's rant. "So how about this?" Calcifer finally concluded. "If you can figure out how to free me from this... contract I'm in with Bay, than I will figure out how to break the curse that's on you."

"Alright, we have a deal," Walter mumbled before slipping into a chorus of snores and a fitful sleep.