It was a routine that Peggy Powler felt reluctant to foresake due to the contentment it brought to her on many levels.
The little Witch's day would begin with draining the residue from the previous night's dreamless congress with the
Sandman by shivering beneath a handcrafted contraption that poured seawater down on Peggy's body. But with a
pull of a rope, this do-it-yourself cloudburst would cease and leave its latest customer feeling replenished ready for
might lay ahead. Drying herself, Peggy would often smile to herself as she mused on how her innovative host had
been busy during her convalescence and how rarely mentioned his inspirations during their late-evening suppers.
After a hearty breakfast, she would sit near Finley Bucca's garden and absorb the natural healing of just allowing the
world to move on around her. Industrious Rabbits would constantly scurry around the Elf's willow-palisade and look
for ways of breaching the barrier between them and their herbaceous goal. Finley would sometimes sit with her and
puffing his brume of tobacco into the late-summer air, he'd repeat his assurance that he had buried his twig-woven
enclosure deep enough into the soil that the bunnies would never defile his vegetable patch.
With a friendly warning from her occasional bed-warmer that noon would find a plate of his homegrown produce ready
for consumption, the Last Witch of Underhill would test her aching muscles and amble down to the sandy beach where
the huge tusked creature had deposited the naked unconscious theurgist a few days ago.
Ma Vittie's island was still the same and no investigation had occurred since Peggy had retrieved the Pyxis of The Pact
and escaped without being noticed. Sometimes, towards the end of the warm days, the Wolf-Dog could be seen doing
its patrol and occasionally barking at a passing Horse-eel. But all-in-all, the little Witch's mission had gone off without
exposure and Myrddin's request had been fulfilled.
Keeping close to the Mangle trees that followed the beach northwards, Peggy would gaze out from beneath her wide
-brimmed bonnet at the Great Sea and wonder what the capacious creature with the long tusks was doing right now.
The sunset tainted the indifferent waves with its bloody incandescence as she mused on her craggy-vellumed saviour
and recalling her current host's account, puzzled on why the walrus hadn't hung around.
Finley had found her slumped in the sand with his waterproof sack attempting to further its adventures out among the
waves. Only the length of twine tied to Peggy's leg prevented such an endeavour. Gathering the unconscious Witch's
floating baggage, the little Elf had carried her over his shoulder and tended to her in his subterranean home until she'd
roused in the early hours of the next morning.
Finley was still at a loss on how his guest had travelled so far from the lagoon -even when taking into consideration the
robust currents that regularly effected Alkali Bight, but the remark of a benign monster from the depths rescuing the
floundering thaumaturge he'd simply put down to the mind struggling to deal with the harrowing situation. Preparing
a supper of blackbird eggs, a helping of fried potatoes with a side-order of beans, the genial humming Sidhe came to
the conclusion that he should just let it be. Some things are meant to be left alone.
..................................................
Epilogue.
That day came and was noted by a light scattering of leaves carried on the breeze from the forest. Peggy Powler
sat in her usual place beneath the pocket-sized window of Finley's home and watched the first telling that Autumn
was just around the corner. She knew her journey to the Wizard's home on the east coast would be dusted with odd
events that surely would involve her interaction and breathing deeply through her nose, the cogitating Witch accepted
that her road was constructed this way due to who she was. The small box holding the Glamour Grimoire was safe
again and whatever diabolical spells lay within, would continue their dormancy and the world would continue to turn.
The Elf's vegetable patch was looking a little sparse too, a sign that Finley had grasped the idea that the warmer days
were behind them now. The blazing fire-hearth belonging to the amicable man with hairy ears and ash-smudge waistcoat
would be a worthy memory to hang to -Peggy thought as she waited for the owner of that toe-warmer to appear from his
morning chores, the cold places she would find be laying head will need such a comforting recollection the little half-Fae
wagered as she adjusting her hat.
Finley stepped out of the door and tapped the remains from his pipe on the window ledge. "The swallows are gathering
on the branch, my friend and I've heard it said Witch's feet always itch to find another path" he said with a slightly-sad
smile on his summer-tanned face. "It's not going to be same around here" was a more-mumbled comment that Peggy
guessed was an affirmation to himself than the little woman getting up off the dried-out tree stump.
"Aye, yon trail beckons, but yer' accommodation whispers just as loud fur' me te' hang about for a while longer" she
parried with a note of genuine heartache. Peggy loved the place and had a soft-spot for its squire, nobody came here
and in time, the wandering Witch would be forgotten. She and Finley could fade away and see out their years among
the Mangle trees with nought but the rabbits to worry about.
But what he'd said was inescapable, there would be a day when the un-shoed extremities Peggy peered down at would
begin to yearn for a bramble-strewn lane or an overgrown willow grove to walk down and the lugubrious conjurer of
charms wouldn't be able to resist their calls. Destiny-doomed Myrddin had once labelled it.
They hugged for a long time and with a light kiss on her cheek, Finley whispered "Fair travels, Peggy... and watch yourself
out there among the world" Stuttering a breath and feeling the need to weep, the poncho-wearing creditor of the warning
turned away from a highly-ranked possibility for a home for weary witches and fed the feet that couldn't stay still.
Somewhere out in choppy waters of the Great Sea, a walrus drifts towards whatever the tides and weather deem. Its fluidic
course is rarely set and no compass can ensure a cherished destination. Resettling the strap of her satchel onto her shoulder,
Peggy Powler nodded once to show her corroboration that the Fates of unfathomable sortilege moved many chess pieces
for reasons beyond most folk's comprehension and on rare occasions, the buggers collide.
The End.
The little Witch's day would begin with draining the residue from the previous night's dreamless congress with the
Sandman by shivering beneath a handcrafted contraption that poured seawater down on Peggy's body. But with a
pull of a rope, this do-it-yourself cloudburst would cease and leave its latest customer feeling replenished ready for
might lay ahead. Drying herself, Peggy would often smile to herself as she mused on how her innovative host had
been busy during her convalescence and how rarely mentioned his inspirations during their late-evening suppers.
After a hearty breakfast, she would sit near Finley Bucca's garden and absorb the natural healing of just allowing the
world to move on around her. Industrious Rabbits would constantly scurry around the Elf's willow-palisade and look
for ways of breaching the barrier between them and their herbaceous goal. Finley would sometimes sit with her and
puffing his brume of tobacco into the late-summer air, he'd repeat his assurance that he had buried his twig-woven
enclosure deep enough into the soil that the bunnies would never defile his vegetable patch.
With a friendly warning from her occasional bed-warmer that noon would find a plate of his homegrown produce ready
for consumption, the Last Witch of Underhill would test her aching muscles and amble down to the sandy beach where
the huge tusked creature had deposited the naked unconscious theurgist a few days ago.
Ma Vittie's island was still the same and no investigation had occurred since Peggy had retrieved the Pyxis of The Pact
and escaped without being noticed. Sometimes, towards the end of the warm days, the Wolf-Dog could be seen doing
its patrol and occasionally barking at a passing Horse-eel. But all-in-all, the little Witch's mission had gone off without
exposure and Myrddin's request had been fulfilled.
Keeping close to the Mangle trees that followed the beach northwards, Peggy would gaze out from beneath her wide
-brimmed bonnet at the Great Sea and wonder what the capacious creature with the long tusks was doing right now.
The sunset tainted the indifferent waves with its bloody incandescence as she mused on her craggy-vellumed saviour
and recalling her current host's account, puzzled on why the walrus hadn't hung around.
Finley had found her slumped in the sand with his waterproof sack attempting to further its adventures out among the
waves. Only the length of twine tied to Peggy's leg prevented such an endeavour. Gathering the unconscious Witch's
floating baggage, the little Elf had carried her over his shoulder and tended to her in his subterranean home until she'd
roused in the early hours of the next morning.
Finley was still at a loss on how his guest had travelled so far from the lagoon -even when taking into consideration the
robust currents that regularly effected Alkali Bight, but the remark of a benign monster from the depths rescuing the
floundering thaumaturge he'd simply put down to the mind struggling to deal with the harrowing situation. Preparing
a supper of blackbird eggs, a helping of fried potatoes with a side-order of beans, the genial humming Sidhe came to
the conclusion that he should just let it be. Some things are meant to be left alone.
..................................................
Epilogue.
That day came and was noted by a light scattering of leaves carried on the breeze from the forest. Peggy Powler
sat in her usual place beneath the pocket-sized window of Finley's home and watched the first telling that Autumn
was just around the corner. She knew her journey to the Wizard's home on the east coast would be dusted with odd
events that surely would involve her interaction and breathing deeply through her nose, the cogitating Witch accepted
that her road was constructed this way due to who she was. The small box holding the Glamour Grimoire was safe
again and whatever diabolical spells lay within, would continue their dormancy and the world would continue to turn.
The Elf's vegetable patch was looking a little sparse too, a sign that Finley had grasped the idea that the warmer days
were behind them now. The blazing fire-hearth belonging to the amicable man with hairy ears and ash-smudge waistcoat
would be a worthy memory to hang to -Peggy thought as she waited for the owner of that toe-warmer to appear from his
morning chores, the cold places she would find be laying head will need such a comforting recollection the little half-Fae
wagered as she adjusting her hat.
Finley stepped out of the door and tapped the remains from his pipe on the window ledge. "The swallows are gathering
on the branch, my friend and I've heard it said Witch's feet always itch to find another path" he said with a slightly-sad
smile on his summer-tanned face. "It's not going to be same around here" was a more-mumbled comment that Peggy
guessed was an affirmation to himself than the little woman getting up off the dried-out tree stump.
"Aye, yon trail beckons, but yer' accommodation whispers just as loud fur' me te' hang about for a while longer" she
parried with a note of genuine heartache. Peggy loved the place and had a soft-spot for its squire, nobody came here
and in time, the wandering Witch would be forgotten. She and Finley could fade away and see out their years among
the Mangle trees with nought but the rabbits to worry about.
But what he'd said was inescapable, there would be a day when the un-shoed extremities Peggy peered down at would
begin to yearn for a bramble-strewn lane or an overgrown willow grove to walk down and the lugubrious conjurer of
charms wouldn't be able to resist their calls. Destiny-doomed Myrddin had once labelled it.
They hugged for a long time and with a light kiss on her cheek, Finley whispered "Fair travels, Peggy... and watch yourself
out there among the world" Stuttering a breath and feeling the need to weep, the poncho-wearing creditor of the warning
turned away from a highly-ranked possibility for a home for weary witches and fed the feet that couldn't stay still.
Somewhere out in choppy waters of the Great Sea, a walrus drifts towards whatever the tides and weather deem. Its fluidic
course is rarely set and no compass can ensure a cherished destination. Resettling the strap of her satchel onto her shoulder,
Peggy Powler nodded once to show her corroboration that the Fates of unfathomable sortilege moved many chess pieces
for reasons beyond most folk's comprehension and on rare occasions, the buggers collide.
The End.
Read The TV Guide, yer' don't need a TV.