"Ah, there he is" Officer Delphi exclaimed with as much verve as discovering a caterpillar crawling along a leaf and
leaving the small necromancer to her own devices, stepped off the Cloud Walkway and approached a dull-looking
young lad holding a large bundle. Peggy Powler and the Constable of Munderville had walked the full length of the
mist-shrouded wooden suspension bridge and had found nothing connecting it and the disappearance of the four
women.
Now surveying the Borax mine-side of the platform, nothing offered itself as a possible clue for the vanishings to
the aloof blue-robed flatfoot and the Last Witch of Underhill. Peggy sniffed away the effects of the condensation
building up around her and gazed down at the dark-green foliage in the gorge in an attempted to piece the jigsaw
together.
"I instructed my eldest son to bring me a bedroll in case we need to bivouac..." Wilbur announced proudly as he
place a hand on the grinning boy's shoulder and tucking the string-wrapped bale under his other arm, the couple
approached the woman evincing her attention elsewhere . "...I also advised him to journey via the Calder's Way
route as currently we don't know what we are dealing with here". This said as the Constable escorted his first-
born issue back across the Walkway in order to take Officer-Delphi's horse back home.
"Fair travels, Miss Powler" were the only words from the tousle-haired lad as he wandered into the mist with his
father. Peggy nodded absently to the officer's self-involved twaddle and waved vaguely at the boy's farewell, it
was obvious some equine toil was required at the Delphi home, but such circumspection was unimportant for
the scanning Shaman leaning on the roped-handrail.
The deep impassive cleft had been formed due to the eroding minerals drawn up from underground and carried
along by the slowing-moving steam until their potency became diluted in The Great Sea. The cliffs were sheer
on both sides and appeared to offer nothing in the way of hidden cavities and the attentive sorceress wondered
what type of search had taken place down in the cramped forest of deciduous and evergreen trees.
Large ferns wainscoted the boundary where the dense greenery met the rock faces and there seemed no obvious
indication the area was used to house the quartet of stolen damsels. This -of course, was based on the idea that
Wilbur Delphi's report was correct. The studious little necromancer still clung to the idea this was the work of a
Kaffajinn and considering the demon's little-known craving of human hair, she strongly believed the sly creature
wouldn't be keeping its captures somewhere down in the woods.
It seemed only a few moments before Peggy heard the sound of a horse trotting away, a familiar backdrop of
rural noise to stuffy-urbane tones of the policeman. "Several men and I scoured the woodland below and we
found nothing to denote the ladies are being held down there..." the newly-elected lawman said softly when he
returned from convoying his son. "...They were taken from up here and probably exported from away down to
the seashore" he added.
Arriving at the end of the bridge furthest away from Earnest Heinz's Dry-Goods Store, he watched Peggy's stone
-like features for some type of clue to what she was thinking. "My guess would be the scoundrel tarried up here
and then took his swooned-prey towards the Cat Steps and made for the beach before absconding further along
the shoreline with his prize" Wilbur attached to his initial assumption.
Realising why the bare-footed Witch offered him a puzzled-look, Officer Delphi explained the Cat Steps was a
nickname for the carved stairway from the levated land on the Borax mine side down to the shingled beach that
lay further along the gorge where the warm-water stream met the The Great Sea. There were two sets of steps,
one on Earnest Heniz's side conveniently titled 'the Dog Steps' and the other just a small walk from where Peggy
and her explainer now stood.
"All around this area used to be a place families would spend a rare summer's day away from the drudgery of daily
life..." Wilbur continued. "...Then when Percy Fessel came with his men to tear out the borax, all that changed.
Old-man Heinz's Store saw less-and-less folks from the district ascending the cliffs to partake of his home-made
ice-cream and now his son... well, you've seen for yourself".
There was a moment on the bridge when all was quiet and to some, it may have been a time when both visitors
were calmly reflecting on the latest information or juggling with other options to the whereabouts of four women.
For Peggy, it was a respite she knew she had to utilise.
"Mister Delphi, will yer' do me a favour and stop yer' lips flappin' fur' a breath and hold me-hat?..." the little Witch
advised the aloof policeman as she offered him her wide-rimmed headwear and then carefully sank to her knees
in order to examine the underside of the Fessel Cloud Walkway. "...And Ah'd advise yer te' avert yer' eyes, iffn' =
yer' please" she warned the shocked constable accepting his abrasive partner.
Whilst Wilbur Delphi struggled to construct a response to the seemingly-uncultivated woman leaning precariously
over the wooden planks, Peggy examined the belly of the bridge for clues to endorse an idea she'd had during the
Officer's tiresome addresses. Approaching the Cloud Walkway from either end would alert any potential victim if
they too were stood at the same side of the platform. This naturally-assumed advance would also lend itself to a
Kaffajinn being seen by the Store owner witnessing an abduction if it occurred on his side of the gorge.
Resisting the nauseous feeling from checking the underside of the mist-shrouded Walkway upside-down, the Witch
without undergarments squinted her eyes and waited for the steamy droplets to accredit her suspicion. It wasn't long
before the tell-tale sign of a delicate filament could be seen coming from the lower clouds of haze and looping once
to the attached rope of one of the planks, returned down into the veiled jungle below.
Sighing to herself as she climbed back to her full height, Peggy conjured up an image in her mind how the crafty
culprit who'd stolen the lasses had done it. The thread would be connected to a string, the string was tied to a
thicker length of twine and then a rope could be hauled up to Fessel's folly. All this done in the slowly-rolling grey
soup that surrounded the bridge and if careful, an excellent way for a Kaffajinn to carry off its trophy.
"Sneaky little bugger" she announced cryptically to the tall man from Munderville and set off towards the Cat Steps.
leaving the small necromancer to her own devices, stepped off the Cloud Walkway and approached a dull-looking
young lad holding a large bundle. Peggy Powler and the Constable of Munderville had walked the full length of the
mist-shrouded wooden suspension bridge and had found nothing connecting it and the disappearance of the four
women.
Now surveying the Borax mine-side of the platform, nothing offered itself as a possible clue for the vanishings to
the aloof blue-robed flatfoot and the Last Witch of Underhill. Peggy sniffed away the effects of the condensation
building up around her and gazed down at the dark-green foliage in the gorge in an attempted to piece the jigsaw
together.
"I instructed my eldest son to bring me a bedroll in case we need to bivouac..." Wilbur announced proudly as he
place a hand on the grinning boy's shoulder and tucking the string-wrapped bale under his other arm, the couple
approached the woman evincing her attention elsewhere . "...I also advised him to journey via the Calder's Way
route as currently we don't know what we are dealing with here". This said as the Constable escorted his first-
born issue back across the Walkway in order to take Officer-Delphi's horse back home.
"Fair travels, Miss Powler" were the only words from the tousle-haired lad as he wandered into the mist with his
father. Peggy nodded absently to the officer's self-involved twaddle and waved vaguely at the boy's farewell, it
was obvious some equine toil was required at the Delphi home, but such circumspection was unimportant for
the scanning Shaman leaning on the roped-handrail.
The deep impassive cleft had been formed due to the eroding minerals drawn up from underground and carried
along by the slowing-moving steam until their potency became diluted in The Great Sea. The cliffs were sheer
on both sides and appeared to offer nothing in the way of hidden cavities and the attentive sorceress wondered
what type of search had taken place down in the cramped forest of deciduous and evergreen trees.
Large ferns wainscoted the boundary where the dense greenery met the rock faces and there seemed no obvious
indication the area was used to house the quartet of stolen damsels. This -of course, was based on the idea that
Wilbur Delphi's report was correct. The studious little necromancer still clung to the idea this was the work of a
Kaffajinn and considering the demon's little-known craving of human hair, she strongly believed the sly creature
wouldn't be keeping its captures somewhere down in the woods.
It seemed only a few moments before Peggy heard the sound of a horse trotting away, a familiar backdrop of
rural noise to stuffy-urbane tones of the policeman. "Several men and I scoured the woodland below and we
found nothing to denote the ladies are being held down there..." the newly-elected lawman said softly when he
returned from convoying his son. "...They were taken from up here and probably exported from away down to
the seashore" he added.
Arriving at the end of the bridge furthest away from Earnest Heinz's Dry-Goods Store, he watched Peggy's stone
-like features for some type of clue to what she was thinking. "My guess would be the scoundrel tarried up here
and then took his swooned-prey towards the Cat Steps and made for the beach before absconding further along
the shoreline with his prize" Wilbur attached to his initial assumption.
Realising why the bare-footed Witch offered him a puzzled-look, Officer Delphi explained the Cat Steps was a
nickname for the carved stairway from the levated land on the Borax mine side down to the shingled beach that
lay further along the gorge where the warm-water stream met the The Great Sea. There were two sets of steps,
one on Earnest Heniz's side conveniently titled 'the Dog Steps' and the other just a small walk from where Peggy
and her explainer now stood.
"All around this area used to be a place families would spend a rare summer's day away from the drudgery of daily
life..." Wilbur continued. "...Then when Percy Fessel came with his men to tear out the borax, all that changed.
Old-man Heinz's Store saw less-and-less folks from the district ascending the cliffs to partake of his home-made
ice-cream and now his son... well, you've seen for yourself".
There was a moment on the bridge when all was quiet and to some, it may have been a time when both visitors
were calmly reflecting on the latest information or juggling with other options to the whereabouts of four women.
For Peggy, it was a respite she knew she had to utilise.
"Mister Delphi, will yer' do me a favour and stop yer' lips flappin' fur' a breath and hold me-hat?..." the little Witch
advised the aloof policeman as she offered him her wide-rimmed headwear and then carefully sank to her knees
in order to examine the underside of the Fessel Cloud Walkway. "...And Ah'd advise yer te' avert yer' eyes, iffn' =
yer' please" she warned the shocked constable accepting his abrasive partner.
Whilst Wilbur Delphi struggled to construct a response to the seemingly-uncultivated woman leaning precariously
over the wooden planks, Peggy examined the belly of the bridge for clues to endorse an idea she'd had during the
Officer's tiresome addresses. Approaching the Cloud Walkway from either end would alert any potential victim if
they too were stood at the same side of the platform. This naturally-assumed advance would also lend itself to a
Kaffajinn being seen by the Store owner witnessing an abduction if it occurred on his side of the gorge.
Resisting the nauseous feeling from checking the underside of the mist-shrouded Walkway upside-down, the Witch
without undergarments squinted her eyes and waited for the steamy droplets to accredit her suspicion. It wasn't long
before the tell-tale sign of a delicate filament could be seen coming from the lower clouds of haze and looping once
to the attached rope of one of the planks, returned down into the veiled jungle below.
Sighing to herself as she climbed back to her full height, Peggy conjured up an image in her mind how the crafty
culprit who'd stolen the lasses had done it. The thread would be connected to a string, the string was tied to a
thicker length of twine and then a rope could be hauled up to Fessel's folly. All this done in the slowly-rolling grey
soup that surrounded the bridge and if careful, an excellent way for a Kaffajinn to carry off its trophy.
"Sneaky little bugger" she announced cryptically to the tall man from Munderville and set off towards the Cat Steps.
Read The TV Guide, yer' don't need a TV.