It was a weird place and the little Witch peering along the naturally-formed conduit realised that for anyone travelling along
the lane outside Phineas Stappen' home, they wouldn't see the fern, bramble bushes and cow parsley-covered ditch behind
the stone wall.
In the abundance of plants that comprised the long tunnel-like scurry-way, Peggy Powler noticed Ox-Eye Daisy and Jack
-by-the-Hedge vying with other wild herbage to create a strange dank corridor than had seemed to have gone unnoticed.
The obscure place smelled earthy and bygone, aromatic with decaying vegetation untouched by the sun and to the little
woman avoiding squashing a vigilant toad, it was a welcoming sight.
After leaving Phineas and her empty breakfast plate, the sorceress had stood in the quiet road on the edge of Puddledown
and adjusted her mind in order to properly apply a plan on discovering what was really going on. From the accounts she'd
just re-heard over her morning meal, Peggy believed her nasty prey was as smart -if not smarter, than those who saw the
wolf as a mere audacious carnivore and to get to the monster's level, she needed to leave the environment the killer was
becoming more and more confident in.
Furtively making sure her recent host wasn't watching from his window, Peggy scrambled over the wall outside of Phineas'
house and dropped into a world that was more fitting to her Fae station. One moment, she was just Peggy Powler, the little
woman who wandered the highways and byways, fixing the problems where the extraordinary sometimes kissed the harsh
reality of this realm. Now she was one with the throat-inflating amphibian that slowly slid away from the larger interloper, an
outsider who wants to come home.
The floor of the culvert hinted -that at times, flash-flooding could occur to bring refreshment to the tangle of foliage, but its
current state was merely damp with spongy soil and the occasional smooth stone. Squatting close to the ground, Peggy spied
a small shod-footprint and thankfully, no sign of a canine paw imprint. With a smile to expose her original guess at who had
showed a bottle green hat earlier, the Witch tucked her own kind of headwear into her satchel and set off along the shadowy
cloistered channel.
Where the dried-out passageway left the village and turned west towards the woodland, Peggy wondered if the gully was
once pertinent to drainage for the surrounding arable land. But due to the water-less rindle's current state, the abandonment
allowed those -rarely believed to exist and to reside outside of human communities, to utilise the frondescence privacy.
Relishing in her journey, the scuttling spellbinder pressed on in search of the being she was certain was a Brownie and if
the little Silkie was true to the real lore, his home would be close to the village, but not apparent to those who who lived
in Puddledown. Brownies were said to be adherents to the human home and delivered domestic tasks like cleaning and
other chores. In reality, these small beings used the ignorance of people for their own ends, but occasionally paid through
work for whatever they took.
She almost missed it and peering across at the camouflaged mud-covered door in the ditch's embankment, Peggy silently
chided herself for spending too much time among those on the other side of the wall. The small portal consisted of old oak
smeared with dark soil and decorated with tiny pebbles and baby ferns. Carefully auditing up and down the forgotten trench,
the little crouching necromancer lightly tapped on the two-foot high door of the elusive hat-wearer and whispered the arcane
tetrameter known only to the Good-Folk.
...................................................
Taking a sip of her warm nettle tea, Peggy looked at Finley Teasel and wondered what is lifestyle was like compared to hers.
After cautiously being invited into the small hole in the ditch's bank, the reticent Brownie had led his guest down a tunnel that
rivalled the outside for its aromas. The damp walls gave off a low mulchy smell and approaching a faint glow of a candle, the
Witch was pleased to pick up the scent of woodland fragrances ahead.
Finley Teasel might not own much, but his home indicated a wealth that those on the other side off the dank culvert would
never be able to appreciate. Cuckooflowers, Primroses and Hyacinths sat in neat wooden boxes of earth on a carved-out ledge
of his little burrow. Wood anemones accompanied foxgloves in similar containers below a tiny whorled-glass window protected
by well disguised shutters. A kettle steamed softly on a small fire in a homemade stone-bound hearth and a handcrafted table
stood as a centrepiece to the small cosy room.
"Ah've got te' thank thee' fur' yer' assistance in what Ah'm tryin' te' do, Mister Teasel" Peggy said softly and lamented breaking
the comfortable silence between them. Finley was peering out of the porthole at the sun-kissed leafy ambience beyond and the
brow beneath his dark-green hat still held his concerns of what he'd said and what he'd heard. As a Brownie, he'd always keep
his ear to the ground, but these horrible forays by the wolf was just beyond what his simple rustic existence was used to.
Finley glanced towards his guest and showed his deep-tawny eyes, "the problem with the villagers is that they perceive their
problem only when it effects them and fail to understand what the real problem is" he murmured in his usual hushed voice .
The Brownie rubbed the side of his head under his agrarian hat and revealed the long-eared trademark of his species.
"The beast is more than just a wolf looking for an easy meal, it's a tormentor for a reason" he added and went back to viewing
the untamed glades enjoying the noon sun. The cramped Witch delicately placed her empty cup on the table and nodded at
Finley's grounded assumption. "Aye, well it's that reason that'll catch the bugger, iff'n Ah' can find out what it is" Peggy agreed
and forced a smile to herself at the long flowerpots decorated with acorns.
With a confined gesture towards a curtsy, the taller of the two scrambled back along the tunnel and she noticed Finley had the
good manners not to immediately follow her due to her lack of underwear. It was only when Peggy was back outside among the
jungle of plants, did the Brownie finally appear at the doorway. "Fair travels Peggy and don't take this one for granted..." he
advised from the threshold of his home, "...this fiend knows you as well as you do yourself" he added and nodded his farewell.
Contemplating Finley Teasel's words, the little Witch turned to retrace her steps back towards Puddledown. Finishing adjusting
the strap of her satchel, Peggy's eyes widened when she saw something that she was certain hadn't been there earlier. A large
paw-print had audaciously been left just outside the Brownie's subterranean dwelling.
"Yer' little bugger!" she exclaimed in a bitter hiss and after surveying her surroundings for danger, the inwardly-fuming Last Witch
of Underhill hurried back down the overgrown thoroughfare for Witches, Brownies and now, a taunting wolf.
the lane outside Phineas Stappen' home, they wouldn't see the fern, bramble bushes and cow parsley-covered ditch behind
the stone wall.
In the abundance of plants that comprised the long tunnel-like scurry-way, Peggy Powler noticed Ox-Eye Daisy and Jack
-by-the-Hedge vying with other wild herbage to create a strange dank corridor than had seemed to have gone unnoticed.
The obscure place smelled earthy and bygone, aromatic with decaying vegetation untouched by the sun and to the little
woman avoiding squashing a vigilant toad, it was a welcoming sight.
After leaving Phineas and her empty breakfast plate, the sorceress had stood in the quiet road on the edge of Puddledown
and adjusted her mind in order to properly apply a plan on discovering what was really going on. From the accounts she'd
just re-heard over her morning meal, Peggy believed her nasty prey was as smart -if not smarter, than those who saw the
wolf as a mere audacious carnivore and to get to the monster's level, she needed to leave the environment the killer was
becoming more and more confident in.
Furtively making sure her recent host wasn't watching from his window, Peggy scrambled over the wall outside of Phineas'
house and dropped into a world that was more fitting to her Fae station. One moment, she was just Peggy Powler, the little
woman who wandered the highways and byways, fixing the problems where the extraordinary sometimes kissed the harsh
reality of this realm. Now she was one with the throat-inflating amphibian that slowly slid away from the larger interloper, an
outsider who wants to come home.
The floor of the culvert hinted -that at times, flash-flooding could occur to bring refreshment to the tangle of foliage, but its
current state was merely damp with spongy soil and the occasional smooth stone. Squatting close to the ground, Peggy spied
a small shod-footprint and thankfully, no sign of a canine paw imprint. With a smile to expose her original guess at who had
showed a bottle green hat earlier, the Witch tucked her own kind of headwear into her satchel and set off along the shadowy
cloistered channel.
Where the dried-out passageway left the village and turned west towards the woodland, Peggy wondered if the gully was
once pertinent to drainage for the surrounding arable land. But due to the water-less rindle's current state, the abandonment
allowed those -rarely believed to exist and to reside outside of human communities, to utilise the frondescence privacy.
Relishing in her journey, the scuttling spellbinder pressed on in search of the being she was certain was a Brownie and if
the little Silkie was true to the real lore, his home would be close to the village, but not apparent to those who who lived
in Puddledown. Brownies were said to be adherents to the human home and delivered domestic tasks like cleaning and
other chores. In reality, these small beings used the ignorance of people for their own ends, but occasionally paid through
work for whatever they took.
She almost missed it and peering across at the camouflaged mud-covered door in the ditch's embankment, Peggy silently
chided herself for spending too much time among those on the other side of the wall. The small portal consisted of old oak
smeared with dark soil and decorated with tiny pebbles and baby ferns. Carefully auditing up and down the forgotten trench,
the little crouching necromancer lightly tapped on the two-foot high door of the elusive hat-wearer and whispered the arcane
tetrameter known only to the Good-Folk.
...................................................
Taking a sip of her warm nettle tea, Peggy looked at Finley Teasel and wondered what is lifestyle was like compared to hers.
After cautiously being invited into the small hole in the ditch's bank, the reticent Brownie had led his guest down a tunnel that
rivalled the outside for its aromas. The damp walls gave off a low mulchy smell and approaching a faint glow of a candle, the
Witch was pleased to pick up the scent of woodland fragrances ahead.
Finley Teasel might not own much, but his home indicated a wealth that those on the other side off the dank culvert would
never be able to appreciate. Cuckooflowers, Primroses and Hyacinths sat in neat wooden boxes of earth on a carved-out ledge
of his little burrow. Wood anemones accompanied foxgloves in similar containers below a tiny whorled-glass window protected
by well disguised shutters. A kettle steamed softly on a small fire in a homemade stone-bound hearth and a handcrafted table
stood as a centrepiece to the small cosy room.
"Ah've got te' thank thee' fur' yer' assistance in what Ah'm tryin' te' do, Mister Teasel" Peggy said softly and lamented breaking
the comfortable silence between them. Finley was peering out of the porthole at the sun-kissed leafy ambience beyond and the
brow beneath his dark-green hat still held his concerns of what he'd said and what he'd heard. As a Brownie, he'd always keep
his ear to the ground, but these horrible forays by the wolf was just beyond what his simple rustic existence was used to.
Finley glanced towards his guest and showed his deep-tawny eyes, "the problem with the villagers is that they perceive their
problem only when it effects them and fail to understand what the real problem is" he murmured in his usual hushed voice .
The Brownie rubbed the side of his head under his agrarian hat and revealed the long-eared trademark of his species.
"The beast is more than just a wolf looking for an easy meal, it's a tormentor for a reason" he added and went back to viewing
the untamed glades enjoying the noon sun. The cramped Witch delicately placed her empty cup on the table and nodded at
Finley's grounded assumption. "Aye, well it's that reason that'll catch the bugger, iff'n Ah' can find out what it is" Peggy agreed
and forced a smile to herself at the long flowerpots decorated with acorns.
With a confined gesture towards a curtsy, the taller of the two scrambled back along the tunnel and she noticed Finley had the
good manners not to immediately follow her due to her lack of underwear. It was only when Peggy was back outside among the
jungle of plants, did the Brownie finally appear at the doorway. "Fair travels Peggy and don't take this one for granted..." he
advised from the threshold of his home, "...this fiend knows you as well as you do yourself" he added and nodded his farewell.
Contemplating Finley Teasel's words, the little Witch turned to retrace her steps back towards Puddledown. Finishing adjusting
the strap of her satchel, Peggy's eyes widened when she saw something that she was certain hadn't been there earlier. A large
paw-print had audaciously been left just outside the Brownie's subterranean dwelling.
"Yer' little bugger!" she exclaimed in a bitter hiss and after surveying her surroundings for danger, the inwardly-fuming Last Witch
of Underhill hurried back down the overgrown thoroughfare for Witches, Brownies and now, a taunting wolf.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.