To some, the ancient creaking elms around the sombre dock of Warren Mills would be indicative of the many tales that
passengers of the ferry relate. Haunted waters -they say, things watching from beneath the surface during their crossing
of the slow-moving Farra River.
Others speak of spook-lights drifting through the moss-strewn trees and coming to rest in the marshes just down from the
dilapidated shack where the Ferryman waited. The old man -who was currently standing beneath the dock's only lantern,
watched the woman in the too-large hat sitting on the edge of the jetty, had heard them all, but he was old enough to know
that the little Witch dangling her bare feet over the gloomy waters, had heard more.
"Yer'll be headin' to Magdalene fur' Yule-jolif, Ma'am?" Joesph P. Mather asked as he scratched his beard and watched for
the salesman to finish his task behind the bushes. Joseph was about to call it a finished season and pull his old boat ashore
for much-needed repairs when the female had arrived two minutes after the talkative vendor. The quiet of the deep body of
water at evening time was welcoming once more from the nasally-sounding carpetbagger's annoying drone.
Now, Peggy Powler turned her head towards the proprietor of the banged-up barge and nodded once. "Aye, that'll be reet"
she croaked and thought about her recent travels. It had been three whole weeks since she'd last spoken to anyone, the
overgrown footpath from Shadrach's Corner had been a lonely journey, but the solitude was something the Last Witch of
Underhill had secretly appreciated.
Oh, there'd been those that Peggy knew had been watching her, but they'd never ventured from their cover, never visited her
small campfire at night for a late chat and never dared to show themselves in her passing. Huldra, the hidden-ones, types of
Fae that were not used to seeing travellers of that particular track.
But as the desert fell away to a more lush landscape, the Witch's demeanour had brightened as she began to feel prairie-grass
between her toes. Here and there, Farraman County sprouted deciduous trees and even though Spring was still months away,
the sight of stark branches that were not cacti gave Peggy a feeling that new year would bring new experiences to relish.
Now sitting on the agrarian wooden wharf and peering at Mather's leaky carriage, the pilgrimage to that lambent adventure now
seemed dubious -at best. Joseph read her eyes and offered "She's done some leagues, Miss Powler, but she'll git' yer' across".
A phlegmy chuckle from beneath Mather's sparrow's-nest beard accompanied the assurance as the focus of his promise studied
him and the returning salesman.
"Excuse me for over-hearing your conference, but I -too, am journeying to Magdalene..." the well-dressed chatterbox announced
as he swiflty made his way to Mather's hoary vessel. "...My name is Bartholomew Drigg and It would be an honour to guard you on
the dark and dangerous byway, Missy" he theatrically chirped as he swung his large gripsack into the boat with him.
Old-man Mather put his hand up as Peggy rose to embark alongside the red-velvet trousered gascon and filled the short distance
between them. "Yer' ride is fur' free, you and Ah' know that..." Joseph whispered, "..but Ah' wouldna' bet the fare on that fella makin'
it across the Farra 'afore yer' turn him into a ferret" he said and chanced a gummy grin.
The little Witch adjusted the strap of her satchel and returned the smile, another thing she hadn't physically done for a while.
"Yer' a wise man, Mr Mather" she breathed back.
...................................................
Calder's Way lay just up ahead and the notion of feeling back in her old haunts brought renewed vigour in Peggy's pace.
The salesman struggled with his cumbersome luggage a few feet behind the little Witch and yet, his need to talk didn't wane.
"We'll be on safer ground soon, Ma'am and if you'd spare a moment, I would like to prevail on you some information that you may
find engaging..." Bartholomew Drigg announced during his exertions on the uneven track.
"... My wares are some of the finest pharmaceutic elixirs ever known to man and I can personally vouch for their therapeutic qualities"
he muttered as a weathered signpost came into view. Peggy's desire to change the slimy pettifogger into a toad -due to Mr Volcano
once owning a ferret and not wanting to damage any of her favourite memories, faded slightly when she noticed a smaller placard that
pointed in the opposite direction from her pertinent destination.
The scrawl that some vandal or a person prompted to discourage visiting the smaller hamlet had all-but obliterated the community's
name, but from memory the little Witch could recall it. Peering up at the wooden defaced director, Peggy saw that 'Salvation Row' had
now been renamed 'Old Scratch' and pondered whether her original idea to spend Yule-jolif in Magdalene may have to be postponed.
The brazen eloquence of the well-dressed peddler chattering about his bundle of alleged panacea became the deal-breaker and with
a look that would freeze mead towards the bumbling Mr Drigg, the little bare-footed woman set her path towards the colony where the
Devil was supposedly dwelling.
passengers of the ferry relate. Haunted waters -they say, things watching from beneath the surface during their crossing
of the slow-moving Farra River.
Others speak of spook-lights drifting through the moss-strewn trees and coming to rest in the marshes just down from the
dilapidated shack where the Ferryman waited. The old man -who was currently standing beneath the dock's only lantern,
watched the woman in the too-large hat sitting on the edge of the jetty, had heard them all, but he was old enough to know
that the little Witch dangling her bare feet over the gloomy waters, had heard more.
"Yer'll be headin' to Magdalene fur' Yule-jolif, Ma'am?" Joesph P. Mather asked as he scratched his beard and watched for
the salesman to finish his task behind the bushes. Joseph was about to call it a finished season and pull his old boat ashore
for much-needed repairs when the female had arrived two minutes after the talkative vendor. The quiet of the deep body of
water at evening time was welcoming once more from the nasally-sounding carpetbagger's annoying drone.
Now, Peggy Powler turned her head towards the proprietor of the banged-up barge and nodded once. "Aye, that'll be reet"
she croaked and thought about her recent travels. It had been three whole weeks since she'd last spoken to anyone, the
overgrown footpath from Shadrach's Corner had been a lonely journey, but the solitude was something the Last Witch of
Underhill had secretly appreciated.
Oh, there'd been those that Peggy knew had been watching her, but they'd never ventured from their cover, never visited her
small campfire at night for a late chat and never dared to show themselves in her passing. Huldra, the hidden-ones, types of
Fae that were not used to seeing travellers of that particular track.
But as the desert fell away to a more lush landscape, the Witch's demeanour had brightened as she began to feel prairie-grass
between her toes. Here and there, Farraman County sprouted deciduous trees and even though Spring was still months away,
the sight of stark branches that were not cacti gave Peggy a feeling that new year would bring new experiences to relish.
Now sitting on the agrarian wooden wharf and peering at Mather's leaky carriage, the pilgrimage to that lambent adventure now
seemed dubious -at best. Joseph read her eyes and offered "She's done some leagues, Miss Powler, but she'll git' yer' across".
A phlegmy chuckle from beneath Mather's sparrow's-nest beard accompanied the assurance as the focus of his promise studied
him and the returning salesman.
"Excuse me for over-hearing your conference, but I -too, am journeying to Magdalene..." the well-dressed chatterbox announced
as he swiflty made his way to Mather's hoary vessel. "...My name is Bartholomew Drigg and It would be an honour to guard you on
the dark and dangerous byway, Missy" he theatrically chirped as he swung his large gripsack into the boat with him.
Old-man Mather put his hand up as Peggy rose to embark alongside the red-velvet trousered gascon and filled the short distance
between them. "Yer' ride is fur' free, you and Ah' know that..." Joseph whispered, "..but Ah' wouldna' bet the fare on that fella makin'
it across the Farra 'afore yer' turn him into a ferret" he said and chanced a gummy grin.
The little Witch adjusted the strap of her satchel and returned the smile, another thing she hadn't physically done for a while.
"Yer' a wise man, Mr Mather" she breathed back.
...................................................
Calder's Way lay just up ahead and the notion of feeling back in her old haunts brought renewed vigour in Peggy's pace.
The salesman struggled with his cumbersome luggage a few feet behind the little Witch and yet, his need to talk didn't wane.
"We'll be on safer ground soon, Ma'am and if you'd spare a moment, I would like to prevail on you some information that you may
find engaging..." Bartholomew Drigg announced during his exertions on the uneven track.
"... My wares are some of the finest pharmaceutic elixirs ever known to man and I can personally vouch for their therapeutic qualities"
he muttered as a weathered signpost came into view. Peggy's desire to change the slimy pettifogger into a toad -due to Mr Volcano
once owning a ferret and not wanting to damage any of her favourite memories, faded slightly when she noticed a smaller placard that
pointed in the opposite direction from her pertinent destination.
The scrawl that some vandal or a person prompted to discourage visiting the smaller hamlet had all-but obliterated the community's
name, but from memory the little Witch could recall it. Peering up at the wooden defaced director, Peggy saw that 'Salvation Row' had
now been renamed 'Old Scratch' and pondered whether her original idea to spend Yule-jolif in Magdalene may have to be postponed.
The brazen eloquence of the well-dressed peddler chattering about his bundle of alleged panacea became the deal-breaker and with
a look that would freeze mead towards the bumbling Mr Drigg, the little bare-footed woman set her path towards the colony where the
Devil was supposedly dwelling.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.