For the next couple of days, Peggy Powler strolled the garden with her good-natured host and reworked the small details
of the maraud onto Ma Vittie's island. In the evenings, the little Witch would bathe in the steeply-banked narrow channel
of seawater that Finley had first shown her and ruminate on how she would cross the tide-controlled bay that isolated Ma
Vittie's home.
It was during one of these relaxing moments that Peggy spied the huge animal that the Elf had mentioned the day before,
whether it it could be defined as a wolf was another story. After wading to the mouth of the sandy gouge that allowed water
to soak the protruding roots of the Mangle trees, the ever-curious sorceress spotted a large shape bounding along a narrow
grass-less track that led to the tip of the island closest to Finley's home.
Arriving at the point where any further movement demanded a reverse of travel or continuation along the side of the island
where the old woman was reported to live, the brute slowed its pace and began to sniff the air. Peggy shrank back a little
way as she scrutinised the suspicious creature and was careful not to cause a splash or ripple in her slight retreat.
But the sound of disturbed water halted her movement when she believed the beast had dived into the lagoon and gasping
in dread, she squinted in the dying light towards the end of the island to see the furry sentry still standing post on the flat
shore and staring past where Peggy was hiding.
If put on the spot and required to explain the breed of the animal, she'd have to accept that this large furry canine was a
cross between a Fire Mastiff and possibly a Cave Wolf. The grey pelt was thick and gave the animal a look of a powerful
body and heavy shoulders. The aristate snout was long and suggested a full set of flesh-ripping teeth waited within.
All-in-all, the wary Warlock reckoned the vigilant Wolf-Dog would be one of her major obstacles in getting to the island.
..................................................
Finley had informed his guest that the big man who lived in the stone guardhouse beside the shingle link to the mainland
never ventured around the island. Once in a while, Ma Vittie would harness the huge dog to a small two-wheeled carriage
and leave when the tide was low and the causeway was passable. The observant Fae had guessed the journey was for
provisions and on returning, she would drop off what seemed like groceries to the guardian of her refuge.
Only once had Finley seen the final part of these expeditions, it was during a period when he'd been collecting the bones
Peggy had noticed in the room where she slept. At some time or other, a dead leviathan was washed ashore not far from
where the chary Wolf-Dog currently stood. Not wishing to waste the rare blubber-oil of the gigantic monster of the deep,
the daring Elf had swam across in the dead of night and partaken of what he could for his own ends.
Apparently, this became a routine and it was only when he knew the hermit would be leaving on one of her trips, Finley's
bravery demanded another voyage in broad daylight across the shallow cove and claim what few remains were left. Whilst
Ma Vittie was away that afternoon, he had performed this strange salvage three times and on the last visit, the Elf believed
he'd pushed his gamble too far.
Standing beside the Great Sea, Finley happened to glance down towards the upturned boat that doubled as the recluse's
dwelling when he saw the ferocious canine vaulting towards him. In his panic, the terrified Fae dropped the rib-bone he
was confident would make a fine adornment to his spare bedroom and made his escape in haste.
It turned out that the sentry's overgrown pet was on an entirely different mission than chomping on Elf meat, the brute
was merely running back to the watch-house to be fed. Looking back as he paddled into the safety of the sandy culvert,
Finley realised two things. One was the dog never ran up and over the steep ridge of the island and two, the route which
Ma Vittie used to take her small cart to the causeway -a pebbled-track that skirted the far-end of the isle, was also not
preferred by the nasty mutt. Information that Finley had passed along to Peggy and was happy to see her relieved at his
words.
Yet, the scheme to acquire the container that housed the Glamour Grimoire was still not polished enough to ease Peggy's
mind. The Wolf-Dog was still watching from its roost at the end of the island and the tide-controlled shingle road was only
available at a particular time, regardless of the giant Watchman. Sighing as she sought her poncho hanging on a branch,
the Last Witch of Underhill took some small solace that there wasn't a time-limit to her mission. It had taken her a whole
season to travel this far west and to locate her current host who she hoped was making supper around now.
"I hope I haven't intruded?" the familiar voice asked from the shadows and the usually-cheerful Elf suddenly appeared from
a thick barrier of Mangle trees at the other end of the channel. Finley Bucca was aware of his disturbing emergence from
the gloom and his pose showed his embarrassment. However, what hung over his shoulder and the item in his hands didn't
improve the scene either.
Peggy initially thought the shiny dangling thing was a snake, although she'd later find out she was wrong. But to be fair,
the half-dressed spell-worker's guess about what Finley clutched was half-correct. It was a duck, but a wooden one.
of the maraud onto Ma Vittie's island. In the evenings, the little Witch would bathe in the steeply-banked narrow channel
of seawater that Finley had first shown her and ruminate on how she would cross the tide-controlled bay that isolated Ma
Vittie's home.
It was during one of these relaxing moments that Peggy spied the huge animal that the Elf had mentioned the day before,
whether it it could be defined as a wolf was another story. After wading to the mouth of the sandy gouge that allowed water
to soak the protruding roots of the Mangle trees, the ever-curious sorceress spotted a large shape bounding along a narrow
grass-less track that led to the tip of the island closest to Finley's home.
Arriving at the point where any further movement demanded a reverse of travel or continuation along the side of the island
where the old woman was reported to live, the brute slowed its pace and began to sniff the air. Peggy shrank back a little
way as she scrutinised the suspicious creature and was careful not to cause a splash or ripple in her slight retreat.
But the sound of disturbed water halted her movement when she believed the beast had dived into the lagoon and gasping
in dread, she squinted in the dying light towards the end of the island to see the furry sentry still standing post on the flat
shore and staring past where Peggy was hiding.
If put on the spot and required to explain the breed of the animal, she'd have to accept that this large furry canine was a
cross between a Fire Mastiff and possibly a Cave Wolf. The grey pelt was thick and gave the animal a look of a powerful
body and heavy shoulders. The aristate snout was long and suggested a full set of flesh-ripping teeth waited within.
All-in-all, the wary Warlock reckoned the vigilant Wolf-Dog would be one of her major obstacles in getting to the island.
..................................................
Finley had informed his guest that the big man who lived in the stone guardhouse beside the shingle link to the mainland
never ventured around the island. Once in a while, Ma Vittie would harness the huge dog to a small two-wheeled carriage
and leave when the tide was low and the causeway was passable. The observant Fae had guessed the journey was for
provisions and on returning, she would drop off what seemed like groceries to the guardian of her refuge.
Only once had Finley seen the final part of these expeditions, it was during a period when he'd been collecting the bones
Peggy had noticed in the room where she slept. At some time or other, a dead leviathan was washed ashore not far from
where the chary Wolf-Dog currently stood. Not wishing to waste the rare blubber-oil of the gigantic monster of the deep,
the daring Elf had swam across in the dead of night and partaken of what he could for his own ends.
Apparently, this became a routine and it was only when he knew the hermit would be leaving on one of her trips, Finley's
bravery demanded another voyage in broad daylight across the shallow cove and claim what few remains were left. Whilst
Ma Vittie was away that afternoon, he had performed this strange salvage three times and on the last visit, the Elf believed
he'd pushed his gamble too far.
Standing beside the Great Sea, Finley happened to glance down towards the upturned boat that doubled as the recluse's
dwelling when he saw the ferocious canine vaulting towards him. In his panic, the terrified Fae dropped the rib-bone he
was confident would make a fine adornment to his spare bedroom and made his escape in haste.
It turned out that the sentry's overgrown pet was on an entirely different mission than chomping on Elf meat, the brute
was merely running back to the watch-house to be fed. Looking back as he paddled into the safety of the sandy culvert,
Finley realised two things. One was the dog never ran up and over the steep ridge of the island and two, the route which
Ma Vittie used to take her small cart to the causeway -a pebbled-track that skirted the far-end of the isle, was also not
preferred by the nasty mutt. Information that Finley had passed along to Peggy and was happy to see her relieved at his
words.
Yet, the scheme to acquire the container that housed the Glamour Grimoire was still not polished enough to ease Peggy's
mind. The Wolf-Dog was still watching from its roost at the end of the island and the tide-controlled shingle road was only
available at a particular time, regardless of the giant Watchman. Sighing as she sought her poncho hanging on a branch,
the Last Witch of Underhill took some small solace that there wasn't a time-limit to her mission. It had taken her a whole
season to travel this far west and to locate her current host who she hoped was making supper around now.
"I hope I haven't intruded?" the familiar voice asked from the shadows and the usually-cheerful Elf suddenly appeared from
a thick barrier of Mangle trees at the other end of the channel. Finley Bucca was aware of his disturbing emergence from
the gloom and his pose showed his embarrassment. However, what hung over his shoulder and the item in his hands didn't
improve the scene either.
Peggy initially thought the shiny dangling thing was a snake, although she'd later find out she was wrong. But to be fair,
the half-dressed spell-worker's guess about what Finley clutched was half-correct. It was a duck, but a wooden one.
Read The TV Guide, yer' don't need a TV.