Deliverance (open to all)

With his teeth clenched in the misty morning air and the scent of warm bread a long distant memory already, Mateo trudged down the path towards Old Coplar’s with a small wooden bowl in his hand. It was the sort that his father spent so little time on, but somehow managed to make look like it was worth more than the hunk of wood it was made from. Beeswax gave the inside a smooth shine, and the outside was left rugged as a marked reminder between what the old man could do, and what he chose to. One day Mateo might have that skill, such as it was; until then he would just have to content himself with delivering the finished product to the happy customer.

Or unhappy, as the case may be. Old Coplar seemed to grow more sullen with age, and his usefulness had long passed so he was simply left to fester. Mateo didn’t think it was right, but he also didn’t have much compassion for the man either. One too many trips to visit the man had turned his empathy to apathy. Oh well, one more visit won’t hurt. Maybe this winter will finally kill him off. Not that he shared that nasty sentiment with anyone else, Coplar just left a sour taste in his mouth. What was the point of being nice to someone who was irredeemably rude?

But business was business, and Coplar always paid for his goods. He was as well off as most of the Sander’s companies’ clientele – that is to say, living in a little wooden affair running the risk of a cold winter. But most people did, and somehow they always got by. It was all in the investment of time and effort into drying wood. It might take a couple of years to get the wood truly dry, or at least dry enough to burn properly, but it was always worth it. The wood that Vince would trade for was nearly always wet still, recently cut, but it was a good tradeoff as dried wood was always so much more expensive. Mateo wondered if those who could afford dried wood were even aware that they could do it themselves for cheaper, if they had the time and the storage space. By using wet wood in this way, Mateo had managed to buy Edna a nice little scarf for her birthday, one to match his own – muted browns and wrapped tightly around his neck as if to strangle him whilst it kept him warm. His dark tan coat held body heat well enough but come winter it would be inadequate alone. Only his trusty boots could reliably keep him warm no matter what time of year it was. Heck, they might even keep him warm in one of the mountains he’d seen in the Games, if he was allowed to wear them.

Mateo stomped his beloved boots on the mat outside Coplar’s door, shaking his head when he saw the door was in fact ajar. He’s asking for trouble, letting the cold in like that, he thought. His dark eyes scanned the front yard, where thankfully Coplar hadn’t left his dog chained for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time, though with autumn approaching, it could very well be his last if the temperature dropped. Which it surely would. Coplar was one of those who purchased dried wood and used it sparingly.

“Mr Coplar?” Mateo called through the door, having cleaned his boots to the man’s probable satisfaction. The wind was his only answer. He had better be asleep, or out. Just because he half-wanted the man dead, didn’t mean he wanted to be the one who found him. Nobody would suspect him, but then again people got the strangest ideas sometimes. It wasn’t as if Coplar got many visitors, having no family and being a grade-A ass. It was with a sigh that Mateo realised he was waiting on himself to check, to be the one who inspected the house and determined one way or another whether Coplar was at home or not. It wouldn’t fall to anyone else and Mateo always wanted to do a thorough job. So he stepped into the house and closed the door to see if anyone was home.

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Oh, they were home all right. And not leaving of their own violation any time soon. Man and mutt, together. Almost peaceful, on the bed. Why did it make Mateo suspicious, the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end, his heart race with the thought that perhaps, maybe, just possibly... this was not entirely down to chance?

Best to not think down that avenue. It had a lot of sharp branches he had no intention of getting caught in.

Mateo stood outside the gate now, holding the wooden bowl in both of his hands and blinking down at it in perplexed shock. Da is going to be so angry when he realises he’s lost a customer, he thought to himself, but at least he paid for his bowl upfront. Maybe we can use it for ourselves. He would take it back to his Da and see what he decided, though he would have to speak to the Peacekeepers as well – a job he did not relish in the very least. If only he could head back home and pretend he never paid a visit to the recently deceased man, who looked to have died in his sleep but who knows? Scrubbing a hand through his day-old stubble, Mateo decided he would take a moment to collect himself, and then find the nearest Peacekeeper and explain what had happened. His Da would be annoyed but he would understand.