His father had been a merchant.
He remembered in his youth, tagging along, listening to the rhythmic pounding of the wagon wheels against the ground. The bustle of the marketplace. Shouting, laughter, bartering. He learned the trade like a second nature, the taste of trade on his sandpaper tongue so tangible.
It had been awhile since he came around this place.
Inhaling, he finally settled down at an empty shack, ready for use. Dropping the torn woven basket from his maw, he flexed his jaw, feeling sore. It was quite a ways away from his home to get here. "Free items! Free items!" He yowled, then began unpacking. The assembly of things in front of him unraveled in a neat line, stacked primely onto the counter. "Come get some free items! Trade optional!" Although handing out things for free was not common for him, he had acquired so many things over his lifetime that he needed to just clean out. Cleaner den, cleaner mind, right?
- 2 small hoop earrings
- Three old books with some pages missing
- A paring knife with a wooden handle
- A glass bowl with snowmen on it
- An old knit blue scarf
- An old puppy doll with stuffing popping out of it's leg