On his left, a pile of skins, bags of salt and hooks anywhere there was space for them to hang.
On his right, Simon next to a hole, a meter wide in the ground with a heating system beneath, a sort of angular chimney to let the smoke escape.
In front of them, the old sign of the shop, it had been unhooked for years, dust covered it and rats had their home set nearby. 'Simons and sons.' It said. Too bad Oswald had no idea how to read.
"Alright, what can I do for you?" Simon barely had the time to sit on his armchair that the boy lifted him back up. With a fast-paced speech, he resumed the motive of his venue.
"I want you to explain me how you make good leather. I'm a new hunter and I can't waste half of my game. I live quite far away from the village I can't allow myself to leave my mother by herself each time I manage to kill a deer. Now go ahead, show me the process!"
Heaving a sigh, the old man walked around the long room, pointing toward his tools from time to time.
"First, I soak the skin in warm water before fleshing it. I use the round brush here and the pedal system to make it rotate." He gestured the moves he had done thousands of times along his speech. "Then you soak it again before letting it dry outside. Because its snows too often, I stopped working lately, I can't stand the smell of the drying skin inside of my house."
'We're two months into winter, this man does not notice time passing.' The boy nearly commented.
"They stiffen when they dry, so I pile them up, there, and I hammer them three hundred times with the mace, it's the toughest part of the job."
"What do you do with the fur?" Oswald asked, touching a neglected pelt.
Simon was happy to have a question, he liked the curiosity and the interest of the boy, though he hoped to not get his job stolen. "You still have it at this point, if you don't work properly it'll be a mess! Yet we don't get rid of it at this point of the process."
Simon added more steps to the job, making Oswald wince progressively. 'I don't have the time to do all of this... Nor do I have the tools! That'll surely be pricey! I can't even remember the third step... Never mind, I do.' He shrugged off his negative mind and paid attention.
"If you have boar skin or deer, you won't keep its hair, it's unpleasant and never soft enough to wear. You'll cut it with this tool and burn the excess with this, again it's time-consuming... Who are you again?"
"I'm your associate! Your new skin provider! We'll work together from now on, you'll have fifty percent of the money we'll make!"
"Eighty." The man smirked. "You kill an animal and I have to do the hardest part of the job? No thanks! I am not agreeing this if you try to rob me."
"Seventy five and I'll construct racks for you to hang your pelts outside."
Investment was no known word to Oswald, yet he had the intuition it would bring him more money over time.
"Fine! But I won't work now, I'm not sober, I'll risk wounding myself." Simon was drunk during the whole winter. Ever since he lost his family, years ago, he wandered in the village, losing himself in his lonely thoughts. He was depressed. No one willingly talked with him until Oswald showed up.
"Could you please complete this batch before next week? There are only five rabbits but I'll bring more next time. Maybe I'll get my hand on bigger animals."
"Sure."
His next step, meeting the local butcher, was relatively simple. The problem was time, he needed to come back to his house to take care of his mother.
It was already midday when he met the local butcher. She was a young girl, about twenty-one years old. Her two runts ran around the place while she wielded her wide knife. Her shop had a light coloured wood, birch was a common tree around the village but most preferred dark colours to attract sun's heat.
She had a charming smile looking like Oswald's, with a dimple on each side of her face.
"I need butchering tips." Said the boy before introducing himself. He was eager to go back home despite the beauty he had in front of him. "I want to know everything about skinning, cooking and choosing my meat for everything that exceeds the size of a rabbit."
Her laugh was as cute as her smile. "You sure don't like to waste your time. What am I getting in return? I am not giving away my knowledge for free."
"I live with my mother, we won't be able to eat everything I hunt. I propose you a trade. I want your wisdom and bags of salt in exchange of the meat I'll be incapable to consume. Given that I want around one to two kilograms per week, if I hunt anything above twelve kilograms, once per week, which is as often as I intend to come, you'll be happy to deal with me."
'I won't need much money. Just knowledge. I never said for how much time I'll keep my word and trade with her.'
One of the two kids, a boy, came to ask. "Are you a hunter?"
"Yes, that's what I'm telling her." He was annoyed of every bit that could make him lose his time, he was about to lose his temper when the kid spoke.
"Mom! He's like daddy! Are they friends?" The child's question was sincere, the woman put her knife down and picked him up. "Never heard of him before! I would've heard about a man this charming long ago if they were friends, you know how dad is jealous."
This was enough to make Oswald blush out of embarrassment. 'Too bad she's taken.'
"May I ask your name?" He asked.
"I'm Ugo, and that's mom."
"Tina." She smiled. "I agree to give lessons if you do the dishes as well."
"Fine." Oswald said, staring at the happiest child of the village.