11-20-2021, 02:35 PM
The journey back to Duckworth Bowe's cabin was a quiet one and Peggy Powler felt that the burden of sleep was the reason
for the lack of discourse between herself and the man who'd witnessed last night's discharge of Jack Dor and his Dancing Dead.
Dr Bowe only spoke twice and it involved gratitude and later enquiry of where the last Witch of Underhill would go next.
Peggy had responded with a mild shrug and suggested westwards and the milder climate of next county of Farraman.
This tender -Duckworth believed, was only offered in order for him to shut up.
The early sun wasn't old enough to drive the night chill from the landscape and the pair fell into a trudge of resigned self-reflection.
The terrain didn't offer any ease in their trek and only hindered any prospect of positive thoughts. Peggy tiredly weighed her future
of travelling the highways and country lanes in her search to oust the malevolent-side of life, each of her footsteps dragged through
the gritty-sand like a mime of what lay ahead in her calling.
Duckworth wondered if his attempt to marry modern science with the wizardry his companion on the trail was adept in and reluctantly
came to the conclusion it was a way of shrouding his guilt of failure in the latter. He quickly appended this answer with the idea that
he was just struggling from lack of sleep.
The sight of the clay-shingled roof of his home brought little comfort to his assessment, but did help in picking up the speed of their
return to normality.
...................................................
"What lies ahead for you?" Myrddin asked as the girl in the poncho collected her things in readiness to leave. They had eaten well in
Hatton in the Corn's only tavern and the hefty meal had been brought with gusto and repeated assurances from the innkeeper that
no defrayal was required.
Peggy Powler looked over at the seated magician with some of his breakfast trapped in his whiskers and adjusted the strap on her
new item of apparel. The big satchel was empty again and the youngster was learning that its legerdemain was something she
would have to get used to.
"Me-Ma told me that me-feet will find the reet path and Ah' just have te' follow 'em" the novice Witch replied and waited for the
advice she'd learned was customary from older folk than herself. The kindly sorcerer merely nodded and whispered "sage tidings"
to a girl he knew wouldn't be a novice for long. With a nod and the time-honoured manner of leave-taking, Peggy wished Myrddin
fair travels and left The Cobb Inn.
But in the bright morning sunlight, she felt her first requirement was a safe place to lay her head and get a good dollop of sleep
under her belt. The idea of the barn where she'd spent the night with the coward called Duckworth caused Peggy to turn westwards
and chance a find of a secluded haystack somewhere in a soporific meadow. Leaving Hatton in the Corn, Peggy pushed her optimism
and wondered if a quiet stream would afford itself for the lithe teenager in the large hat to take a much-needed bath.
...................................................
After sleeping for most of the day, Peggy now sat in the half-barrel tub and waited for Duckworth's daughter to bring another bucket
of warm water. The heat of the day was now being burnt-off as late-afternoon raced towards early evening and the promise of another
panorama of amazing skies. The little Witch adored these moments of privacy and with the removal of the grime accumulated during
her congress with the rambunctious minions of Jack Dor, feeling clean of body -as well of mind, caused Peggy to readjust her earlier
negative fealty towards her chosen vocation.
Sarah Bowe had also been unknowingly partly-responsible for Peggy's current upbeat self-appraisal of ridding the towns and villages
of the unruly supernatural. She'd apologised for her earlier behaviour and when her father had retired to his room, privately asked
her weary guest for forgiveness. Peggy had held her hand and in accepting the redress, enjoyed the wholesome flourish of genuine
relief on the younger woman's face. To retain the feeling of euphoria, the fatigued-shaman had asked how the chair was fairing after
its encounter.
It always astounded the little Witch when it came to these moments and she had often wondered if it was simply due to her incapability
to appreciate her her own standing in any level of a community. The exaggerated actions of gratitude, the offering of gifts and the praise
given when she performed her tasks, there was no need -Peggy would say. She'd be happy with just shelter for the night.
It seemed Duckworth's daughter was different.
During her father's and the sorceress' daytime slumber, there'd been unasked-for work done. A freshly-brushed poncho lay neatly-folded
over a nearby horse-hitch, alongside Peggy's dust-shaken hat and bag. The barrel Peggy was now sitting in supported a small plank with
a metal dish of beans and sausage on it accompanied with a mug of sweet-chicory.
Boons for bewitchment -the content naked woman assumed and went back to mapping her morrow.
"Another brew?" Sarah asked with a beaming smile and a steaming pot of chicory, the evening was in full-force and the drowsy wizard
had been caught off-guard during her wool-gathering. Farraman County was the next shire over, but Peggy estimated the distance was
close to over a hundred leagues and such a walk wouldn't be sprinkled with settlements. One had to get to Shadrach's Corner and then
head along a lonely track-way before arriving anywhere that could be called a village.
Bandits were rare nowadays, but the landscape was barren and Peggy missed the familiar surroundings that tracked Calder's Way.
The musings of those leafy lanes and warbling evensong from roosting birds had dragged Peggy down into the welcoming embrace
of forty winks.
With a glance towards the would-be waitress in jeans, Peggy croaked "Aye, thank yer'... and Ah'll be needin' to get out of this soaker
before Ah' shrivel". This brought a surprising chuckle from Sarah and thoughts regarding the single woman's situation came to the
medium's mind again. Sarah Bowe needed a man who wasn't her father, Ms Powler believed and ignored the duplicity of her belief.
Thanking her host for a refill as she clambered out of the barrel, the nude necromancer wondered how she could put her point of view
to Sarah without being intrusive. The large towel hid any facial clues to her ruminations. "How far would yer' say Farraman was from
here?" Peggy asked absently as she briskly dried herself off and noticed the confused gaze of the woman with the coffee pot.
"You're leaving us so soon?" Sarah asked received a nod of affirmation from the buck-naked little Fae with the face of someone who
didn't seem to care about the concept of hospitality. The wily bugger called Peggy Powler plied a piece of her trade that had served
her well in the past and occasionally helped people stuck in a mind-mire.
"Aye, it's a fair-old walk fur' a little 'un like me-self and there's a whole world out there to savour..." she answered abstractedly and
gave the impression that the 'world' she had mentioned, would leave one behind if loitered on. "...There's ghosts to lay and fellas too"
Peggy mumbled as she shrugged on her favourite poncho. Duckworth's only child seemed slightly pained by the Witch's harsh comment,
but the lack of levity in the remark was part of the recipe.
Sarah remained silent as Peggy sipped on her drink and somewhere, a boo-boo owl called out to its mate. Then the result the guest
was hoping for came from her host standing in the desert. "I was thinking... I could take you in the cart to Shadrach's Corner and it
would only take a day" Sarah suggested with a look that the last Witch of Underhill had seen many time. Hopefulness.
Peggy displayed a face of faux-contemplation and finishing her brew, agreed that it would be a grand idea. Now all she had to do was
have a chat with Duckworth Bowe.
for the lack of discourse between herself and the man who'd witnessed last night's discharge of Jack Dor and his Dancing Dead.
Dr Bowe only spoke twice and it involved gratitude and later enquiry of where the last Witch of Underhill would go next.
Peggy had responded with a mild shrug and suggested westwards and the milder climate of next county of Farraman.
This tender -Duckworth believed, was only offered in order for him to shut up.
The early sun wasn't old enough to drive the night chill from the landscape and the pair fell into a trudge of resigned self-reflection.
The terrain didn't offer any ease in their trek and only hindered any prospect of positive thoughts. Peggy tiredly weighed her future
of travelling the highways and country lanes in her search to oust the malevolent-side of life, each of her footsteps dragged through
the gritty-sand like a mime of what lay ahead in her calling.
Duckworth wondered if his attempt to marry modern science with the wizardry his companion on the trail was adept in and reluctantly
came to the conclusion it was a way of shrouding his guilt of failure in the latter. He quickly appended this answer with the idea that
he was just struggling from lack of sleep.
The sight of the clay-shingled roof of his home brought little comfort to his assessment, but did help in picking up the speed of their
return to normality.
...................................................
"What lies ahead for you?" Myrddin asked as the girl in the poncho collected her things in readiness to leave. They had eaten well in
Hatton in the Corn's only tavern and the hefty meal had been brought with gusto and repeated assurances from the innkeeper that
no defrayal was required.
Peggy Powler looked over at the seated magician with some of his breakfast trapped in his whiskers and adjusted the strap on her
new item of apparel. The big satchel was empty again and the youngster was learning that its legerdemain was something she
would have to get used to.
"Me-Ma told me that me-feet will find the reet path and Ah' just have te' follow 'em" the novice Witch replied and waited for the
advice she'd learned was customary from older folk than herself. The kindly sorcerer merely nodded and whispered "sage tidings"
to a girl he knew wouldn't be a novice for long. With a nod and the time-honoured manner of leave-taking, Peggy wished Myrddin
fair travels and left The Cobb Inn.
But in the bright morning sunlight, she felt her first requirement was a safe place to lay her head and get a good dollop of sleep
under her belt. The idea of the barn where she'd spent the night with the coward called Duckworth caused Peggy to turn westwards
and chance a find of a secluded haystack somewhere in a soporific meadow. Leaving Hatton in the Corn, Peggy pushed her optimism
and wondered if a quiet stream would afford itself for the lithe teenager in the large hat to take a much-needed bath.
...................................................
After sleeping for most of the day, Peggy now sat in the half-barrel tub and waited for Duckworth's daughter to bring another bucket
of warm water. The heat of the day was now being burnt-off as late-afternoon raced towards early evening and the promise of another
panorama of amazing skies. The little Witch adored these moments of privacy and with the removal of the grime accumulated during
her congress with the rambunctious minions of Jack Dor, feeling clean of body -as well of mind, caused Peggy to readjust her earlier
negative fealty towards her chosen vocation.
Sarah Bowe had also been unknowingly partly-responsible for Peggy's current upbeat self-appraisal of ridding the towns and villages
of the unruly supernatural. She'd apologised for her earlier behaviour and when her father had retired to his room, privately asked
her weary guest for forgiveness. Peggy had held her hand and in accepting the redress, enjoyed the wholesome flourish of genuine
relief on the younger woman's face. To retain the feeling of euphoria, the fatigued-shaman had asked how the chair was fairing after
its encounter.
It always astounded the little Witch when it came to these moments and she had often wondered if it was simply due to her incapability
to appreciate her her own standing in any level of a community. The exaggerated actions of gratitude, the offering of gifts and the praise
given when she performed her tasks, there was no need -Peggy would say. She'd be happy with just shelter for the night.
It seemed Duckworth's daughter was different.
During her father's and the sorceress' daytime slumber, there'd been unasked-for work done. A freshly-brushed poncho lay neatly-folded
over a nearby horse-hitch, alongside Peggy's dust-shaken hat and bag. The barrel Peggy was now sitting in supported a small plank with
a metal dish of beans and sausage on it accompanied with a mug of sweet-chicory.
Boons for bewitchment -the content naked woman assumed and went back to mapping her morrow.
"Another brew?" Sarah asked with a beaming smile and a steaming pot of chicory, the evening was in full-force and the drowsy wizard
had been caught off-guard during her wool-gathering. Farraman County was the next shire over, but Peggy estimated the distance was
close to over a hundred leagues and such a walk wouldn't be sprinkled with settlements. One had to get to Shadrach's Corner and then
head along a lonely track-way before arriving anywhere that could be called a village.
Bandits were rare nowadays, but the landscape was barren and Peggy missed the familiar surroundings that tracked Calder's Way.
The musings of those leafy lanes and warbling evensong from roosting birds had dragged Peggy down into the welcoming embrace
of forty winks.
With a glance towards the would-be waitress in jeans, Peggy croaked "Aye, thank yer'... and Ah'll be needin' to get out of this soaker
before Ah' shrivel". This brought a surprising chuckle from Sarah and thoughts regarding the single woman's situation came to the
medium's mind again. Sarah Bowe needed a man who wasn't her father, Ms Powler believed and ignored the duplicity of her belief.
Thanking her host for a refill as she clambered out of the barrel, the nude necromancer wondered how she could put her point of view
to Sarah without being intrusive. The large towel hid any facial clues to her ruminations. "How far would yer' say Farraman was from
here?" Peggy asked absently as she briskly dried herself off and noticed the confused gaze of the woman with the coffee pot.
"You're leaving us so soon?" Sarah asked received a nod of affirmation from the buck-naked little Fae with the face of someone who
didn't seem to care about the concept of hospitality. The wily bugger called Peggy Powler plied a piece of her trade that had served
her well in the past and occasionally helped people stuck in a mind-mire.
"Aye, it's a fair-old walk fur' a little 'un like me-self and there's a whole world out there to savour..." she answered abstractedly and
gave the impression that the 'world' she had mentioned, would leave one behind if loitered on. "...There's ghosts to lay and fellas too"
Peggy mumbled as she shrugged on her favourite poncho. Duckworth's only child seemed slightly pained by the Witch's harsh comment,
but the lack of levity in the remark was part of the recipe.
Sarah remained silent as Peggy sipped on her drink and somewhere, a boo-boo owl called out to its mate. Then the result the guest
was hoping for came from her host standing in the desert. "I was thinking... I could take you in the cart to Shadrach's Corner and it
would only take a day" Sarah suggested with a look that the last Witch of Underhill had seen many time. Hopefulness.
Peggy displayed a face of faux-contemplation and finishing her brew, agreed that it would be a grand idea. Now all she had to do was
have a chat with Duckworth Bowe.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.