Peggy Powler wiggled her toes in the tepid clear water trickling from between two gnarled elms that gave the impression
they had resigned themselves to being dwarfs of their top-side brethren. All the trees hunkered in the gorge seemed to
have adjusted to their cramped space and now the mini Witch was looking at her own mini wildwood.
The sun was attempting to heat the day, but being so close to the Autumn, its rays failed to bring the warmth many had
enjoyed earlier in the year. Still, it was enough to cause Officer Delphi to loosen the top button of his cobalt-hued blouse
and warily stepping up beside the little sorceress enjoying the stream's passage, he wondered if he should press her some
more on the strange disclosure regarding a Kaffajinn's penchant. However, his target countered a question with her own.
"De' yer' ken if anythin' was left behind by this Beesley-lass?..." Peggy murmured absently as she surveyed the underside
of the wooden suspension bridge ahead of her. "...Cos' Ah think we know now a Kaffajinn has peculiar tastes" she added
and sloshed her way towards the umbrageous shrubbery. Wilbur Delphi's eyes narrowed in thought as he browsed the
memories of when he and his fellow Mundervillians had scoured the area above. Obviously, the Witch's comment hinted
at the promise he'd given when they had broken camp. Why was still a puzzle.
It was difficult going to start, but keeping low -or at least, to the same height as the bantam woman wading ahead, Wilbur
found he could avoid the eye-poking twigs that hung over the shallow stream. "I believe Miss Beesley abandoned a small
purse that we found near the midway point of yon... of the bridge above us" the crouching Constable corrected himself
during his toil.
With the trees thinning out a little as they passed beneath the object of Wilbur Delphi's exposition, Peggy took a wild guess
that the reason the young woman's forsaken pouch being left behind was due to the material of some purses were softened
with the use of purified coal-tar to deter attack from moths. In the Fae world, this smelly substance was deemed abhorrent
and one would presume a natural discouragement for Kaffajinns too.
Recalling the general direction of Earnest Heinz's stolen fishing line had faded into the surrounding mist, the Last Witch of
Underhill and Officer Delphi pushed forward to where the crevasse began to narrow and the stream deepen. "Me-thinks the
buggers got wind that people only use this path for catchin' 'em and so they cleared-off to where yon banks are steeper"
Peggy pondered as she recalled her earlier dream.
If her Fates were telling her anything during her forty winks, it might be that the Kaffajinn had stashed his cache of women
further towards the stone bridge that Calder's Way crossed. It wasn't much to go on, but the wading sorceress -reluctant to
raise her poncho higher from the water, guessed it would make sense. Looking for the rope that the cord would be attached
to was unproductive, Delphi's men would've found the Kaffajinn and its prey if it had been stupid enough to allow its covert
route to the Fessel Cloud Walkway to lead to its lair. No -Peggy thought trustingly, the artful bugger was hiding somewhere
ahead.
"Did yer' check this far in?" Peggy asked without looking behind her and the pause Wilbur offered before answering told far
more than the policeman wished to disclose. "As I declared before, our belief was that the ladies were taken from the bridge
and then moved away to a different location for whatever foul conduct these types of criminals prefer..." he slowly growled
absently. "One would sensibly assume that such acts take place in a more comfortable..." he added and allowed his confession
to trail off.
Wilbur's attention was now on the brooding cliffs of the narrow passage they were entering and his sham demeanour of
mature fortitude seemed to wane slightly as the couple moved forward. For the chosen servant of Bowes County, his belief
-structure on law enforcement was built on hard-headed disciplines designed to maintain control of a situation.
Here he was with a taciturn Witch who didn't care of showing the tops of her thighs, walking into a confined area for a
monster that took indulgence from smelling human hair and all his diminutive cohort seemed concerned about was whether
Janie Beesley had dropped her purse. "Ah'll tek' that as a nay then" Peggy mouthed to herself as she plonked her hat back
on her head and kept on against the stream's draught.
.................................................................
With the gloom being a good friend to the steep walls of the contracted crevice, the trees that enjoyed the warm irrigate
dwindled down to the occasional shrub that clung to the lower-parts of the gorge and endured the lack of light. If access
to the sun had been possible to the two determined demon-hunters, they would've agreed noon was fast approaching.
But it was the object that Officer Delphi plucked from beneath one of these hardy hedges that demanded their attention.
"Yer' got the eyes of a bloomin' hawk, me-lad" Peggy commended the tall man balefully gazing at the badly-daubed sliver
of wood in the palm of his hand. Wilbur knew what is was, but what was it doing here? Reaching up on her tip-toes to
examine the item, the wobbling wizard grinned as she too recognised it. "Tis' yer' grocer's fishin' float, it must've bin'
dropped by the Kaffajinn when he stole its ladder te' the bridge" she explained. However, the policeman's ongoing
puzzlement of what his companion knew and what he didn't, continued and he expressed his perturbation with the
eyes that had spied the home-made bobber.
Peggy's smile dawdled as she rolled-out the crafty scheme the Kaffajinn had performed to abduct the four women on the
Borax pit-owner's pointless platform. Wilbur nodded a couple of times, but the little Witch guessed he was faking it and
needed time to digest her words. But after putting the float into her satchel, the damp decoder of their expedition up the
stream wondered if the quartet of stolen women had the luxury of such chronology. They had to get moving.
they had resigned themselves to being dwarfs of their top-side brethren. All the trees hunkered in the gorge seemed to
have adjusted to their cramped space and now the mini Witch was looking at her own mini wildwood.
The sun was attempting to heat the day, but being so close to the Autumn, its rays failed to bring the warmth many had
enjoyed earlier in the year. Still, it was enough to cause Officer Delphi to loosen the top button of his cobalt-hued blouse
and warily stepping up beside the little sorceress enjoying the stream's passage, he wondered if he should press her some
more on the strange disclosure regarding a Kaffajinn's penchant. However, his target countered a question with her own.
"De' yer' ken if anythin' was left behind by this Beesley-lass?..." Peggy murmured absently as she surveyed the underside
of the wooden suspension bridge ahead of her. "...Cos' Ah think we know now a Kaffajinn has peculiar tastes" she added
and sloshed her way towards the umbrageous shrubbery. Wilbur Delphi's eyes narrowed in thought as he browsed the
memories of when he and his fellow Mundervillians had scoured the area above. Obviously, the Witch's comment hinted
at the promise he'd given when they had broken camp. Why was still a puzzle.
It was difficult going to start, but keeping low -or at least, to the same height as the bantam woman wading ahead, Wilbur
found he could avoid the eye-poking twigs that hung over the shallow stream. "I believe Miss Beesley abandoned a small
purse that we found near the midway point of yon... of the bridge above us" the crouching Constable corrected himself
during his toil.
With the trees thinning out a little as they passed beneath the object of Wilbur Delphi's exposition, Peggy took a wild guess
that the reason the young woman's forsaken pouch being left behind was due to the material of some purses were softened
with the use of purified coal-tar to deter attack from moths. In the Fae world, this smelly substance was deemed abhorrent
and one would presume a natural discouragement for Kaffajinns too.
Recalling the general direction of Earnest Heinz's stolen fishing line had faded into the surrounding mist, the Last Witch of
Underhill and Officer Delphi pushed forward to where the crevasse began to narrow and the stream deepen. "Me-thinks the
buggers got wind that people only use this path for catchin' 'em and so they cleared-off to where yon banks are steeper"
Peggy pondered as she recalled her earlier dream.
If her Fates were telling her anything during her forty winks, it might be that the Kaffajinn had stashed his cache of women
further towards the stone bridge that Calder's Way crossed. It wasn't much to go on, but the wading sorceress -reluctant to
raise her poncho higher from the water, guessed it would make sense. Looking for the rope that the cord would be attached
to was unproductive, Delphi's men would've found the Kaffajinn and its prey if it had been stupid enough to allow its covert
route to the Fessel Cloud Walkway to lead to its lair. No -Peggy thought trustingly, the artful bugger was hiding somewhere
ahead.
"Did yer' check this far in?" Peggy asked without looking behind her and the pause Wilbur offered before answering told far
more than the policeman wished to disclose. "As I declared before, our belief was that the ladies were taken from the bridge
and then moved away to a different location for whatever foul conduct these types of criminals prefer..." he slowly growled
absently. "One would sensibly assume that such acts take place in a more comfortable..." he added and allowed his confession
to trail off.
Wilbur's attention was now on the brooding cliffs of the narrow passage they were entering and his sham demeanour of
mature fortitude seemed to wane slightly as the couple moved forward. For the chosen servant of Bowes County, his belief
-structure on law enforcement was built on hard-headed disciplines designed to maintain control of a situation.
Here he was with a taciturn Witch who didn't care of showing the tops of her thighs, walking into a confined area for a
monster that took indulgence from smelling human hair and all his diminutive cohort seemed concerned about was whether
Janie Beesley had dropped her purse. "Ah'll tek' that as a nay then" Peggy mouthed to herself as she plonked her hat back
on her head and kept on against the stream's draught.
.................................................................
With the gloom being a good friend to the steep walls of the contracted crevice, the trees that enjoyed the warm irrigate
dwindled down to the occasional shrub that clung to the lower-parts of the gorge and endured the lack of light. If access
to the sun had been possible to the two determined demon-hunters, they would've agreed noon was fast approaching.
But it was the object that Officer Delphi plucked from beneath one of these hardy hedges that demanded their attention.
"Yer' got the eyes of a bloomin' hawk, me-lad" Peggy commended the tall man balefully gazing at the badly-daubed sliver
of wood in the palm of his hand. Wilbur knew what is was, but what was it doing here? Reaching up on her tip-toes to
examine the item, the wobbling wizard grinned as she too recognised it. "Tis' yer' grocer's fishin' float, it must've bin'
dropped by the Kaffajinn when he stole its ladder te' the bridge" she explained. However, the policeman's ongoing
puzzlement of what his companion knew and what he didn't, continued and he expressed his perturbation with the
eyes that had spied the home-made bobber.
Peggy's smile dawdled as she rolled-out the crafty scheme the Kaffajinn had performed to abduct the four women on the
Borax pit-owner's pointless platform. Wilbur nodded a couple of times, but the little Witch guessed he was faking it and
needed time to digest her words. But after putting the float into her satchel, the damp decoder of their expedition up the
stream wondered if the quartet of stolen women had the luxury of such chronology. They had to get moving.
Read The TV Guide, yer' don't need a TV.