The Inkwell presents: Triumvirate

By The Inkwell

Words are a writer's stock in trade, the platforms we build on to entertain, mystify, and entrance. Sometimes we perform grand gestures, paragraphs tumbling over pages to sweep our audience away. But more often than not, it's the right words spoken at the right time that make all the difference. This collection explores how three little words can change everything.

Not a Moth - An extraordinary discovery in the subway leads to more questions than answers.
Summoned - Duty doesn't wait even when you must.
Letter from a Stranger - Rose is in the process of getting good and drunk when she stumbles across a mysterious letter.
Chew Your Leather - A daughter discovers the secret to her family's success.
Dollhouse - Some doors are better left unopened.
Theory of a Clean Mind - Clashing personalities lead to murderous results.
Talk About Being Saved - Once a trigger is pulled, release can be hard to find.
For the Birds - Following orders from on high doesn't always make sense.
The Deathless Ones - Two hardened mercenaries realize some paydays aren't worth it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Inkwell
• Release date: Mar 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215291696

The Inkwell

We are a writing collective founded on Discord that currently includes 20+ writers all helping each other on the climb to completed works.

Book preview

Chew Your Leather

Written by Kuma Harley

Fire is a fickle thing. It can keep a person warm on the coldest nights, and in the same breath, burn that person for coming too close. It speaks of safety and whispers of danger, but throughout, only one constant remains. Wherever flames surge and fire dances, only ashes remain. No matter the sunny hues, crimson streaks, slashes of orange, or flares of blue within its shape, a fire ‌is a feral beast no one can ever truly hope to tame.

They kept it calm enough, though, trapped within an earthen ring of stone, but she knew it fought against the confines, ever reaching, ever seeking to devour more than the meager offering they fed it daily.

Slowly, she extended a clawed hand to the taunting flames.

Mama?

The cat-folk blinked, her hand snapping back as she recognized the dark-striped teen kneeling beside her. Sorry, Wendy, what were you saying?

Papa told me to tell you he was taking Koda to the river to harvest bulrushes.

When her daughter finished speaking, Grizz nodded. He said he would show her how. Did you finish your training for today?

Wendy perked up and nodded. Yes, Mama. I think I finally did it.

Oh?

The teen grinned and held up a hand, gazing at her palm. Gradually, a soft glow engulfed it before transforming into a blue spark, itself growing to become a ball of dark blue energy.

Grizz stared, awestruck. She’d seen her fair share of mages using the spell and been struck by a few herself, but seeing someone summoning it, especially when it was their very first time, was a unique experience.

But before she could say anything, the ball of energy fizzled out, and Wendy huffed, wiping her forehead.

Are you okay? Grizz asked, frowning and reaching for her daughter. But the teen waved her off with a soft laugh.

I’m fine, Mama. It just takes a lot out of me. Ayla wasn’t joking when she said it’s energy intensive.

Wendy sighed when Grizz’s only response was a hesitant nod. I promise, Mama, see, look… Reaching for her belt, she pulled out an orange potion bottle and gave it a shake. I have endurance potions for exactly this reason. And Uncle Bart and Aunty Rina gave me a new belt as well. It lets me carry more of them while I’m training. As if to punctuate her words, she pulled the cork off the one she held and guzzled it down with practiced ease.

Okay, Kitkat, as long as you’re not overdoing it.

Her daughter rolled her eyes, but she noticed a small smile playing along the teen’s lips. I promise, Mama. I’m a lot better than before we left Eldenmar.

Grizz looked at her flatly. That’s a little hard to believe, Kitkat, considering you passed out while we fought that pack of dire wolves last week.

If not for her daughter’s black fur, Grizz knew she would see the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. As it was, her daughter’s tail flicked dangerously, causing the older cat-folk to snort. Definitely my daughter.

Wendy bared her teeth. What’s that supposed to mean?

Quick as a whip, the older woman reached across the intervening space and flicked the younger on the forehead. For one, don’t flash your teeth at me, young lady, she said sternly. For two, I meant you’re just as bad as I am at making your Papa worry.

The teen flinched, rubbing her forehead, and Grizz rose to her feet. Moving to a nearby table, she pulled out two baskets. Come help me drag these to the fire, please?

With much grumbling, Wendy joined her, and Grizz handed her one basket, before grabbing the other and a mortar and pestle sitting on top of the table. Returning to the fire, she retrieved several pebbles and pieces of flint from the baskets, both of which she put into the stone bowl and began grinding.

Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the flames in the hearth and the soft crunch of stone against stone. Grizz eyeballed the mixture with practiced ease, gradually adding a little more of each ingredient. Eventually, though, ruffling clothing caused her to glance up and find her daughter fidgeting. If you have a question, then ask. You know I can’t read your mind, she admonished.

Wendy froze, and then her shoulders slumped. Sorry, Mama. I tried to figure it out, but I don’t understand. Why are you grinding stone?

It’s not just stone, the older woman explained calmly. It’s flint and stone. You grind them together to make spark powder. Once I have enough, I’ll steal some of the charcoal from your uncle’s forge and make gunpowder.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grizz spotted Wendy tilting her head, and couldn’t stop a small smile from lifting her lips. Kitkat, what are you?

A mage, she replied easily.

Grizz nodded. And what does a mage do?

A mage heals, crafts potions, repairs robes, and handles long-distance damage to enemies.

Again, Grizz nodded, her focus never leaving the mortar and pestle. Those are a mage’s responsibilities. As a druid, mine are a little different. I can’t cook like your Aunty Rina. I don’t know how to use a forge or make potions, either. A druid’s responsibilities are to ensure everyone else has the materials they need for their crafts. Where do you get the silk to repair the robes?

You and Papa provide it when I ask, Wendy replied quietly.

Because that is our job. The orange-furred cat-folk stopped, checking the density of the powder before standing to retrieve an empty basket. Your Papa and I can’t craft the things you do. We can make something like gunpowder or narcotics for when we need to tame something, but it is your uncle that needs the gunpowder to make the bullets or you that needs the silk to enchant the robes.

But why?

Because we all have to chew our leather, Kitkat. Pouring the finished mix into the empty basket, Grizz reached for more stone and flint to start anew. "In a pack, we rely on and support each other. Where one may be weak in one area, others support and cover that weakness. This spark powder I make will eventually become the bullets