Even through the mixture of some arcane language and more-modern obscenities from the floating writhing hag
in front of them, Peggy Powler realised that the terrified girls were looking at her for an answer as what to do next.
The darkness was creeping in quickly now and Peggy knew the time-slowed state this hideous place had been
contained in was deteriorating due to the lack of the Bitch's control over her captives. The thing that had hidden
in plain sight as a seamstress would occasionally stare from her lofty cell towards where the last Witch of Underhill
stood and screeched her affront that some back-woods kid would dare to dabble with mystical powers.
"You're nothing but a country dullard and I will have you..." the terror of St. Martin's began, but Peggy launched the
white-haired stinking scarecrow into a spin and her threats changed to a scream of vexation as Gwydionel whirled
in mid-air.
A more vigilant observer may have noticed the long hanging tapestries hanging about them changing from their
once vibrant colours to faded scenes of the countryside and other imaginings. As the sense hope to escape this
purgatory became stronger, the threads seem to lose their lustre.
"Get behind me" the arm-waving Witch proclaimed and without a word, the wide-eyed youngsters stumbled in a
arc around the area where the horrible autocrat struggled to release herself from the spell. Glancing at the girls
as they assembled, Peggy hoped those on the other side were ready.
...................................................
If any of the Morgan family had looked out of their bedroom window that late hour, they'd have witnessed what could
be classed as a lonely scene. Two small hurrying figures, one that was girl-shaped, a companion no taller than an
adult's knee and both running up the lane towards the shadowy arena of monoliths.
Treacle Thistle gasped as he strove to keep up with Kittie Bretton and his questions came out in staccato words.
"She said... to watch... the rope for... a sign" the little Bogle wheezed as they reached the gate of the Green and
with a nervous eye over his shoulder, checked the cobbled roadway for any opportunist flying night predator.
Kittie's was breathing heavy too, but as she entered the dark tent-festooned lawn, her mind was ablaze with anything
the Witch may have merely mentioned before it had been the girl's bedtime. Treacle followed the child towards the
two standing-stones that guarded the entry to the realm of Gwydionel the Snatcher and with eyes as big as saucers,
he surveyed the deserted remains of Summer's-End.
"We should take hold of the rope and make ready for when she wants us to pull her back" Kittie said with all the
conviction she could muster and then ruined her statement by adding "...I think". The little Yetun said nothing, he just
grabbed the ribbon-wrapped cable and set his feet in preparation.
For what, he couldn't imagine or truthfully, feared to think.
...................................................
'Now' Peggy said to herself and hurled the gyrating kidnapper into the darkness where the looms had been postioned.
The loud sounds of pain and shattering equipment told the Witch that Gwydionel had come down hard. Without checking
on the condition of the harridan, Peggy ushered the girls in the opposite direction and into a blanket of blackness.
"Ho'way lasses, yer' freedom is just a step away" she said and managed to marshal a confident smile. The assembly of
shock -wracked girls shuffled into the shadows without a word of protest and the woman in the unusual outfit followed.
With just a single Lucifer borrowed from her little Bogle friend to light the way, Peggy Powler wandered the darkness
and chaperoned the Chime-children away from their wicked mistress. One can only thank Herne, the Girls knew how
to keep the flame alive. They walked in a line and even through their dulled demeanour, they'd obeyed the little woman's
advice to walk with a hand on each other's shoulder.
Even though she wondered if she'd ever see daylight again, Peggy managed to smile as she felt the first girl in the queue
place a hand on her own shoulder.
...................................................
"The night's majick calls to yer' bones, little-one?" Kittie whispered to nobody, she'd been dwelling on the first time the
little Witch had visited her home. Treacle was focused on the task ahead and didn't hear her properly, but the girl's
words were a welcomed distraction, so he asked her to repeat them. "It was something Peggy said... but it didn't
make sense to me" she explained and felt the chill of the wet grass getting to her toes.
The Yetun offered a tight-lipped smile, "Only you can know" he offered and kept his gaze on the dead rope laid between
the monoliths, The scene went back to quietness and both would-be saviours swam in their own thoughts.
Treacle kept his thinking harnessed and simply ruminated on the red and blue ribbons woven into the hemp and how they
had failed to display their colour in the gloom. Kittie sighed softly and wished she held onto the other things Peggy had
said back then.
...................................................
It could have been a trick of the nerves when surrounded by blackness, but the little sorceress thought she'd felt a cool
movement of air. Peggy glanced at the eternal flame of the match and saw it wave slightly, it wasn't much, but it brought
a small sense of hope.
The strange line of people pressed on and somewhere in the back of her mind, the last Witch of Underhill wondered if
Treacle could still remember the words she'd given him. "He bloody -well better" she whispered to nobody.
in front of them, Peggy Powler realised that the terrified girls were looking at her for an answer as what to do next.
The darkness was creeping in quickly now and Peggy knew the time-slowed state this hideous place had been
contained in was deteriorating due to the lack of the Bitch's control over her captives. The thing that had hidden
in plain sight as a seamstress would occasionally stare from her lofty cell towards where the last Witch of Underhill
stood and screeched her affront that some back-woods kid would dare to dabble with mystical powers.
"You're nothing but a country dullard and I will have you..." the terror of St. Martin's began, but Peggy launched the
white-haired stinking scarecrow into a spin and her threats changed to a scream of vexation as Gwydionel whirled
in mid-air.
A more vigilant observer may have noticed the long hanging tapestries hanging about them changing from their
once vibrant colours to faded scenes of the countryside and other imaginings. As the sense hope to escape this
purgatory became stronger, the threads seem to lose their lustre.
"Get behind me" the arm-waving Witch proclaimed and without a word, the wide-eyed youngsters stumbled in a
arc around the area where the horrible autocrat struggled to release herself from the spell. Glancing at the girls
as they assembled, Peggy hoped those on the other side were ready.
...................................................
If any of the Morgan family had looked out of their bedroom window that late hour, they'd have witnessed what could
be classed as a lonely scene. Two small hurrying figures, one that was girl-shaped, a companion no taller than an
adult's knee and both running up the lane towards the shadowy arena of monoliths.
Treacle Thistle gasped as he strove to keep up with Kittie Bretton and his questions came out in staccato words.
"She said... to watch... the rope for... a sign" the little Bogle wheezed as they reached the gate of the Green and
with a nervous eye over his shoulder, checked the cobbled roadway for any opportunist flying night predator.
Kittie's was breathing heavy too, but as she entered the dark tent-festooned lawn, her mind was ablaze with anything
the Witch may have merely mentioned before it had been the girl's bedtime. Treacle followed the child towards the
two standing-stones that guarded the entry to the realm of Gwydionel the Snatcher and with eyes as big as saucers,
he surveyed the deserted remains of Summer's-End.
"We should take hold of the rope and make ready for when she wants us to pull her back" Kittie said with all the
conviction she could muster and then ruined her statement by adding "...I think". The little Yetun said nothing, he just
grabbed the ribbon-wrapped cable and set his feet in preparation.
For what, he couldn't imagine or truthfully, feared to think.
...................................................
'Now' Peggy said to herself and hurled the gyrating kidnapper into the darkness where the looms had been postioned.
The loud sounds of pain and shattering equipment told the Witch that Gwydionel had come down hard. Without checking
on the condition of the harridan, Peggy ushered the girls in the opposite direction and into a blanket of blackness.
"Ho'way lasses, yer' freedom is just a step away" she said and managed to marshal a confident smile. The assembly of
shock -wracked girls shuffled into the shadows without a word of protest and the woman in the unusual outfit followed.
With just a single Lucifer borrowed from her little Bogle friend to light the way, Peggy Powler wandered the darkness
and chaperoned the Chime-children away from their wicked mistress. One can only thank Herne, the Girls knew how
to keep the flame alive. They walked in a line and even through their dulled demeanour, they'd obeyed the little woman's
advice to walk with a hand on each other's shoulder.
Even though she wondered if she'd ever see daylight again, Peggy managed to smile as she felt the first girl in the queue
place a hand on her own shoulder.
...................................................
"The night's majick calls to yer' bones, little-one?" Kittie whispered to nobody, she'd been dwelling on the first time the
little Witch had visited her home. Treacle was focused on the task ahead and didn't hear her properly, but the girl's
words were a welcomed distraction, so he asked her to repeat them. "It was something Peggy said... but it didn't
make sense to me" she explained and felt the chill of the wet grass getting to her toes.
The Yetun offered a tight-lipped smile, "Only you can know" he offered and kept his gaze on the dead rope laid between
the monoliths, The scene went back to quietness and both would-be saviours swam in their own thoughts.
Treacle kept his thinking harnessed and simply ruminated on the red and blue ribbons woven into the hemp and how they
had failed to display their colour in the gloom. Kittie sighed softly and wished she held onto the other things Peggy had
said back then.
...................................................
It could have been a trick of the nerves when surrounded by blackness, but the little sorceress thought she'd felt a cool
movement of air. Peggy glanced at the eternal flame of the match and saw it wave slightly, it wasn't much, but it brought
a small sense of hope.
The strange line of people pressed on and somewhere in the back of her mind, the last Witch of Underhill wondered if
Treacle could still remember the words she'd given him. "He bloody -well better" she whispered to nobody.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.