Manuel and The Imp

3

Manuel recovered slowly. He didn’t trust the little demon. But he knew he didn’t have the strength to win if he fought him. And the Imp was a curious little creature, Manuel had gathered that he was a freshly born imp. He’d yet to eat a single soul, giving him a deceptively clean air about him. The imp had been sustaining himself on whatever he could hunt and eat with Manuel. 

He was as mischievous as any imp, Manuel imagined. As the imp adored playing tricks and playing games with him. He’d learned how to throw his voice across a room, and how to make his shadow dance and shake in any shape he pleased. Manuel tried not to let his fear grow as the Imp learned more and more dark arts. His magical prowess grew by the day. He was so much like Rivera in that sense. 

“Manuel! Manuel!” The Imp called to him one day. The little demon excitedly kicked open the back door as he flapped his wings hard. He hauled in large packages of meat from something he’d hunted. Manuel had taught him how to properly butcher larger animals. 

“There was a boar by the Cauldron’s Well!” He explained excitedly, offloading it to the table. 

“Is this all of it?” Manuel asked, putting his woodwork to the side. He’d been restocking their kindling, and organizing some wood for repairs he’d work on over the winter. 

“No, this is half, the rest is still by the well.” 

“Good, fetch it quickly, and as much water as you can carry with it.” 

Grinning broadly the little demon nodded, and hopped from the table, flying back toward the Well.

In the meantime, Manuel cleaned off the table. And produced large crocks from a small cellar built into the floor. It was usually hidden under a rug. After lining up the meat, Manuel pulled a cleaver from a drawer and began to break down the rough cuts the imp had provided even further. 

It did not take long for Imp to return. A yoke with two pails across his little shoulders, and the rest of the spoils from the boar in hand. His little wings beating furiously to hold it all up. Chuckling, Manuel grabbed part of the load and helped Imp relieve himself of the burden. 

“Now we need salt, and that large basin from the shed.” Manual instructed setting the water off to the side. 

The pair went together. Manuel loaded the basin with many smaller empty earthen containers. While Imp filled a fabric lined basket with salt. They went back inside, and after removing the earthen containers, Manuel filled the basin with water. 

“Take this. And start adding salt, one scoop at a time and stir.” He instructed Imp, handing him a cup along with a fresh egg from their harvest basket. 

“Once the egg floats, stop adding salt and tell me.” 

“You got it!” Imp happily began dumping in salt, testing the water after every pour. 

Manuel returned to cutting the meat down, making many types of cuts, bacon, roasts, steaks. 

“Done!” Imp announced watching the egg bob across the water's surface. 

“Good, add these to the brine.” Manuel pointed to the thinner cuts he’d produced, and a few thicker ones. He did and then watched as Manuel salted and stuffed the large crocks with meat. Filling them with a brine he’d made in a large bowl on the table. 

“These we’ll salt cure.” He began to explain without Imp asking. Though the little demon was happy to listen. “Those in your brine we’ll smoke in the shed. You saw that chimney right?” Imp nodded watching him work closely.

“The rest we’ll cure in butter, or boil, and use to make stock. This’ll be enough to get us through winter.”
“Can I not hunt in winter?” 

“It’ll be too cold to want to go out, and animals become sparse in these parts. We need to prepare as much as we can. Then when spring comes I’ll go to Conrede, work until I can afford the resurrection. Get the kids back.” He nodded to himself, and Imp nodded with him. Though his arm wasn’t as strong, and still caused him pain, Manuel grit his teeth his spirit reinvigorated by the boar haul. 

“In that cupboard is wax, and the salted butter is in the cellar, fetch them for me.” Manuel nodded, and the imp obliged. 

And so their day went, busily preparing for winter. Canning, brining, smoking, and boiling stocks to last them through the cold unproductive months. 

~~~

“Can you find herbs that look like this?” Manuel asked Imp one day, pulling an old almanac from a drawer. “It’s not the one that has thorns underneath its leaf veins, it feels soft to touch, and doesn’t sting.” He added. 

“I think I’ve seen those.” Imp nodded crouching down on the table to get a better look at the illustration. “They're sunbound from the Lost Thicket.” 

“I told you not to go that direction.” Manuel scolded, and Imp grinned bashfully, shrinking away. 

“It’s alright, I can’t smell any monsters in the area.” He hopped off the table and on all fours scampered to the back door. “How many handfuls should I get?” He asked as Manuel grumbled returning the almanac to its drawer. 

But rather than a reply, or no reply a thunderous crashing caused the world to quake, and Imp was taken out by falling debris from the roof. Coughing, dazed, and confused, Imp pushed the wreckage off and started to call for Manuel. Only to find the rest of the home was gone. Ground into nothing by a giant wall of stonelike flesh. 

Tripping over himself and through the back door, Imp flew up into the sky. And there he saw a colossal silhouette. Manuel the huntsman and his home, had been in the walking path of a giant!