"Are yer'sure about this?" Peggy Powler whispered hesitantly as she hunkered down beside Accam Dey and surveyed the faint
impression in the dirt. The huge wolf's suggestion seemed absurd to the little Witch who was now -due to the beast's covenant
towards her, affianced alone with a killer under her instruction. "To a dullard villager, it might look like a wolf's paw-print, but it
is -in fact, a falsification..." Accam Dey announced with a slight note of admiration. "...And a good one -at that" he added with
eyes of someone who saw more than he was telling.
Even though it was a good Summer in Wheatland County, there was a coldness creeping into the woods as the day had faded and
being alone out here with the renown fiend only added to the Witch's uneasiness. Accam Dey smiled the way only a creature from
Hades could and nodded slightly. Peggy waited for a more enlarged view of the wolf's verdict on what they'd seen so far, but during
a glance towards her companion, couldn't help but notice the dark-blue sash she'd tied around Accam Dey's neck had loosened.
After his declaration to be the Witch's mediary and consort on this mission, the traditional act of the Fae was to give a physical sign
for such loyalty by the attachment of a ringlet or binding. Being that the Witch only owned a hat, a satchel and her poncho, she'd left
the fully-formed brute standing under Phineas' pear tree and gratefully acquired a piece of material from the arboreal's owner.
It was a rag that the old Cobbler had produced from a wooden chest in his living-room and handing it over, Phineas' sombre features
told Peggy that the strip of cloth somehow meant something to him. Yet, he'd remain silent and so she'd left to tie the cobalt coloured
ribbon onto the same creature that now offered the reason for their quarry's ability to elude those who hunted it.
"It explains many of the puzzles your precious villagers laid at the feet of mischievous magic..." Accam Dey disclosed softly, "...they
assumed it was a wolf and therefore, never looked up when the tracks suddenly stopped". The last Witch of Underhill grunted as she
got to her feet and and peered into the branches above.
True, it was a pragmatic solution to why Puddledown's invader could avoid being seen during its retreat back into the countryside.
but staring at the gloomy foliage, she could see why her observations had been off-balance recently. "So what are we lookin' fur'...?
A squirrel that likes the taste of human flesh or a wolf that can climb?" Peggy asked sarcastically towards the leaves of the overhead
oak tree and again, considered her position alone with a marked killer of man.
Phineas Stappen had asked if he could remain in Puddledown in order to allay concerns from anyone who saw Peggy and her furry
companion during their investigation and seeing the sense in his proposal, she'd agreed that it was a good idea. With a rye-smile,
Peggy had guessed such peacekeeping would be done from the tavern.
But following Accam Dey through the abundant fields and into the wilds of the countryside, the little Witch had pondered on the other
reason why her friend had declined to join the hunt. Slaying the murderer of his family would be far too-much of a temptation for the
retired Shoemaker and would only hinder the opportunity to rid Puddledown of its current woe.
Plucking an apple from Phineas' bag of supplies, Peggy mused on what to do next and enjoying the tang of the rosy slack-ma-girdle,
she considered Accam Dey's analysis. The creature they sought used the trees to befuddle its would-be captors. This rational hunch
reinforced the notion that it could gauge the average thoughts of humans and taking into account the damage to Finley Teasel's home,
this thing even seemed aware of the Fae-folk.
Had the stealthy brute impersonated a wolf -possibly because it knew of the inborn fears of the villagers? Slowly turning to gaze at the
real lupine would was once a true butcher of humans, she frowned her confusion towards him as she pondered that such a disguise
would also benefit itself by not being the goal the same villagers pursued. But why...? and what animal could it really be?
Accam Dey stared back at the little woman in the poncho and waited for her to arrive at the answer he'd already reached.
...................................................
As Peggy's lantern offered little light among the ancient stones of a long-lost people, the unusual pair of hunters searched for further
clues to who-or-what thought like a man and yet foraged as an animal. As her cold breath plumed in the faint glow of her flickering lamp,
and the glimmer brought strange dancing shadows from the venerable plinths, the bare-footed sorceress thought about the others that
had been lost to this unknown savage.
Barnaby Grumman had been a farmer and a family man. He had been drunk and making his way home from the village tavern.
Relieving himself against the stone wall that followed the track towards Calder's Way, he'd been grabbed and dragged over the barrier
and then torn apart as he screamed his last words. Charlie Butters -the village Blacksmith, had raced from his nearby home and found
the shredded remains of the ploughman strewn across the field opposite his home.
Later, Butters was said to have seen a shape scurrying away into the darkness and swore that he'd heard laughter, something the other
Puddledownians put down to a vivid imagination or the fact that he too, had earlier visited the Inn. Peggy now wondered if there'd been
something to old Charlie's claim.
"It teases your brain and like a ghost, sails through your thoughts and mocks your grasp, yes?" the huge form murmured from the murk
next to a stone that resembled a crouching Goblin. Peggy stifled a gasp as Accam Dey stepped into the feeble effulgence of her lantern
and awaited an answer from the woman he had vowed to be obedient to.
Matilda Petticoat was the penultimate victim of what walked this dark night and during a check of her hens, came face-to-face with the
phantom monster. However, it was determined that the old lady died from her heart not being able to withstand the horror of seeing the
marauder and thus, still indexed as a fatality of the wolf of Puddledown. Yet, the body was left intact and Peggy reflected on whether the
villagers had just blamed the beast because it was a convenient reason of Mrs Petticoat's passing.
Accam Dey was inspecting the remains of what the little Witch believed was a dolmen, but arriving beside the large wolf, she saw a
blackness in the centre that hinted the forgotten burial site was much more. "The entrance to the Hell you people fear?" the ferocious
creature scornfully suggested from the side of his mouth set his focus back towards the trail they had come from.
Just as Peggy was about to peer down into the seemingly bottomless void between the broken chunks of monolith, Accam Dey breathed
a warning that sent chills up the bantam necromancer's spine. "It appears we are not alone".
impression in the dirt. The huge wolf's suggestion seemed absurd to the little Witch who was now -due to the beast's covenant
towards her, affianced alone with a killer under her instruction. "To a dullard villager, it might look like a wolf's paw-print, but it
is -in fact, a falsification..." Accam Dey announced with a slight note of admiration. "...And a good one -at that" he added with
eyes of someone who saw more than he was telling.
Even though it was a good Summer in Wheatland County, there was a coldness creeping into the woods as the day had faded and
being alone out here with the renown fiend only added to the Witch's uneasiness. Accam Dey smiled the way only a creature from
Hades could and nodded slightly. Peggy waited for a more enlarged view of the wolf's verdict on what they'd seen so far, but during
a glance towards her companion, couldn't help but notice the dark-blue sash she'd tied around Accam Dey's neck had loosened.
After his declaration to be the Witch's mediary and consort on this mission, the traditional act of the Fae was to give a physical sign
for such loyalty by the attachment of a ringlet or binding. Being that the Witch only owned a hat, a satchel and her poncho, she'd left
the fully-formed brute standing under Phineas' pear tree and gratefully acquired a piece of material from the arboreal's owner.
It was a rag that the old Cobbler had produced from a wooden chest in his living-room and handing it over, Phineas' sombre features
told Peggy that the strip of cloth somehow meant something to him. Yet, he'd remain silent and so she'd left to tie the cobalt coloured
ribbon onto the same creature that now offered the reason for their quarry's ability to elude those who hunted it.
"It explains many of the puzzles your precious villagers laid at the feet of mischievous magic..." Accam Dey disclosed softly, "...they
assumed it was a wolf and therefore, never looked up when the tracks suddenly stopped". The last Witch of Underhill grunted as she
got to her feet and and peered into the branches above.
True, it was a pragmatic solution to why Puddledown's invader could avoid being seen during its retreat back into the countryside.
but staring at the gloomy foliage, she could see why her observations had been off-balance recently. "So what are we lookin' fur'...?
A squirrel that likes the taste of human flesh or a wolf that can climb?" Peggy asked sarcastically towards the leaves of the overhead
oak tree and again, considered her position alone with a marked killer of man.
Phineas Stappen had asked if he could remain in Puddledown in order to allay concerns from anyone who saw Peggy and her furry
companion during their investigation and seeing the sense in his proposal, she'd agreed that it was a good idea. With a rye-smile,
Peggy had guessed such peacekeeping would be done from the tavern.
But following Accam Dey through the abundant fields and into the wilds of the countryside, the little Witch had pondered on the other
reason why her friend had declined to join the hunt. Slaying the murderer of his family would be far too-much of a temptation for the
retired Shoemaker and would only hinder the opportunity to rid Puddledown of its current woe.
Plucking an apple from Phineas' bag of supplies, Peggy mused on what to do next and enjoying the tang of the rosy slack-ma-girdle,
she considered Accam Dey's analysis. The creature they sought used the trees to befuddle its would-be captors. This rational hunch
reinforced the notion that it could gauge the average thoughts of humans and taking into account the damage to Finley Teasel's home,
this thing even seemed aware of the Fae-folk.
Had the stealthy brute impersonated a wolf -possibly because it knew of the inborn fears of the villagers? Slowly turning to gaze at the
real lupine would was once a true butcher of humans, she frowned her confusion towards him as she pondered that such a disguise
would also benefit itself by not being the goal the same villagers pursued. But why...? and what animal could it really be?
Accam Dey stared back at the little woman in the poncho and waited for her to arrive at the answer he'd already reached.
...................................................
As Peggy's lantern offered little light among the ancient stones of a long-lost people, the unusual pair of hunters searched for further
clues to who-or-what thought like a man and yet foraged as an animal. As her cold breath plumed in the faint glow of her flickering lamp,
and the glimmer brought strange dancing shadows from the venerable plinths, the bare-footed sorceress thought about the others that
had been lost to this unknown savage.
Barnaby Grumman had been a farmer and a family man. He had been drunk and making his way home from the village tavern.
Relieving himself against the stone wall that followed the track towards Calder's Way, he'd been grabbed and dragged over the barrier
and then torn apart as he screamed his last words. Charlie Butters -the village Blacksmith, had raced from his nearby home and found
the shredded remains of the ploughman strewn across the field opposite his home.
Later, Butters was said to have seen a shape scurrying away into the darkness and swore that he'd heard laughter, something the other
Puddledownians put down to a vivid imagination or the fact that he too, had earlier visited the Inn. Peggy now wondered if there'd been
something to old Charlie's claim.
"It teases your brain and like a ghost, sails through your thoughts and mocks your grasp, yes?" the huge form murmured from the murk
next to a stone that resembled a crouching Goblin. Peggy stifled a gasp as Accam Dey stepped into the feeble effulgence of her lantern
and awaited an answer from the woman he had vowed to be obedient to.
Matilda Petticoat was the penultimate victim of what walked this dark night and during a check of her hens, came face-to-face with the
phantom monster. However, it was determined that the old lady died from her heart not being able to withstand the horror of seeing the
marauder and thus, still indexed as a fatality of the wolf of Puddledown. Yet, the body was left intact and Peggy reflected on whether the
villagers had just blamed the beast because it was a convenient reason of Mrs Petticoat's passing.
Accam Dey was inspecting the remains of what the little Witch believed was a dolmen, but arriving beside the large wolf, she saw a
blackness in the centre that hinted the forgotten burial site was much more. "The entrance to the Hell you people fear?" the ferocious
creature scornfully suggested from the side of his mouth set his focus back towards the trail they had come from.
Just as Peggy was about to peer down into the seemingly bottomless void between the broken chunks of monolith, Accam Dey breathed
a warning that sent chills up the bantam necromancer's spine. "It appears we are not alone".
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.