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Authors: Nicola McDonagh
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It was full of knotted stems with long dagger-like spikes and I pricked my finger when I tried to put my hand through. Wirt shook his head and cocked his ear to towards the sky.
“What is it?”
“Ssshh. Do ye hear that?”
I listened and heard a scrunching noise. I put my hand to my mouth and held my breath. The sound again, only nearer. Wirt pulled me away from the brambles. A hoolet cried it’s sadly song and I jumped. Wirt pressed a finger to my lips then pointed to the wall of thorn and spike. The hoolet cried again and Wirt cupped his hands, pressed both thumblings together and put his pursed up mouth against them. He blew and out came the best hoolet scream I’d heard issue from anything other than the birdie itself. He did it two times more and the veggie wall parted.
Chapter Eight
All Cosy In The Wenchstead
A Lady dressed in a blue skirt and tunic with a shroud of lightest white cotton, stepped out from the underbrush and walked in our direction. A small, sly smile spread unperturbed across her well-washed face. She had long straight black hair with such a sheen that I swear if I were to look directly at it, I would see my own reflection staring back. Her eyes were large, and almost as dark as her hair, and her skin was the colour of melted choc. There was not a wrinkle or blotch anywhere and I thought she was the most beautiful fem I had ever seen.
She took Wirt’s hands in hers and twirled him round until he gasped for air. Then embraced him with as much affection as if he were her own big bub. Wirt pulled free and gestured towards myself. I limply waved and grinned a grin of mortification. Glad the dimness hid my deep red skin. She glanced me up and down and nodded her head. Then he and me and she scrambled through the thicket wall and out into a bright, light clearing.
There were at least a dozen colourfully painted small log cabins all in a row, with a larger dwelling to the far corner opposite the entrance we came in by. All had roofs made from sun panels not unlike those we have in Cityplace. I was impressed that they owned such tech so far from the hub of civilisation. Round solar-powered lights attached to the outside walls of their abodes, illuminated the quadrant and shed such a soft glow that I thought I was watching a vid.
There were traces of artistry too. Each front door had its own craftily crafted gold-like knocker in the shape of leaves. I turned my wonder-filled head this way and that and saw in the centre of the complex raised soily beds full of flowers, veg and fruit bushes. Then to my further amazement and joyousness, a host of real live pets tumbling and jumping amidst the muck and dead leaves that swirled around our feet.
“You have bunnybuns and pupples and…”
“And chikkles and kittlekits. But they are elsewhere.”
I stared open-mouthed at the sight of animals that bore no trace of the usual Clonie defects or disease-ridden abnormalities. When I had come across such beasties in vids or mags, they had a sorry appearance and were firmly from the past. To my knowledge, which is quite limited, no such creatures exist in thisdayandage. Yet here they were. I clasped both hands against my cheeks and blinked in disbelief.
The Lady chuckled, clapped twice and within a bubs gasp, other Ladies appeared from behind the closed doors. I had never seen such human perfection. These fems had none of the misshapenness that afflicts us paltry hominids. I stared down at my stumpy six fingered mitts, then at their slender five-digited hands and felt quite roly-poly. Even Wirt, with his fine features and long leggy-legs, had the Woodsfolk curse of shortthumbs.
“Ladies, Ladies all, come gather, welcome our dear friend Wirt and his somewhat sturdy companion. Who’s name I do not know, and do not want to if she would rather not give it. My name, dear treasure, is Audrey.”
Well named. A noble strength was present in her demeanour all rightly. I felt giddy surrounded by such comeliness
“What is it?”
“Ssshh. Do ye hear that?”
I listened and heard a scrunching noise. I put my hand to my mouth and held my breath. The sound again, only nearer. Wirt pulled me away from the brambles. A hoolet cried it’s sadly song and I jumped. Wirt pressed a finger to my lips then pointed to the wall of thorn and spike. The hoolet cried again and Wirt cupped his hands, pressed both thumblings together and put his pursed up mouth against them. He blew and out came the best hoolet scream I’d heard issue from anything other than the birdie itself. He did it two times more and the veggie wall parted.
Chapter Eight
All Cosy In The Wenchstead
A Lady dressed in a blue skirt and tunic with a shroud of lightest white cotton, stepped out from the underbrush and walked in our direction. A small, sly smile spread unperturbed across her well-washed face. She had long straight black hair with such a sheen that I swear if I were to look directly at it, I would see my own reflection staring back. Her eyes were large, and almost as dark as her hair, and her skin was the colour of melted choc. There was not a wrinkle or blotch anywhere and I thought she was the most beautiful fem I had ever seen.
She took Wirt’s hands in hers and twirled him round until he gasped for air. Then embraced him with as much affection as if he were her own big bub. Wirt pulled free and gestured towards myself. I limply waved and grinned a grin of mortification. Glad the dimness hid my deep red skin. She glanced me up and down and nodded her head. Then he and me and she scrambled through the thicket wall and out into a bright, light clearing.
There were at least a dozen colourfully painted small log cabins all in a row, with a larger dwelling to the far corner opposite the entrance we came in by. All had roofs made from sun panels not unlike those we have in Cityplace. I was impressed that they owned such tech so far from the hub of civilisation. Round solar-powered lights attached to the outside walls of their abodes, illuminated the quadrant and shed such a soft glow that I thought I was watching a vid.
There were traces of artistry too. Each front door had its own craftily crafted gold-like knocker in the shape of leaves. I turned my wonder-filled head this way and that and saw in the centre of the complex raised soily beds full of flowers, veg and fruit bushes. Then to my further amazement and joyousness, a host of real live pets tumbling and jumping amidst the muck and dead leaves that swirled around our feet.
“You have bunnybuns and pupples and…”
“And chikkles and kittlekits. But they are elsewhere.”
I stared open-mouthed at the sight of animals that bore no trace of the usual Clonie defects or disease-ridden abnormalities. When I had come across such beasties in vids or mags, they had a sorry appearance and were firmly from the past. To my knowledge, which is quite limited, no such creatures exist in thisdayandage. Yet here they were. I clasped both hands against my cheeks and blinked in disbelief.
The Lady chuckled, clapped twice and within a bubs gasp, other Ladies appeared from behind the closed doors. I had never seen such human perfection. These fems had none of the misshapenness that afflicts us paltry hominids. I stared down at my stumpy six fingered mitts, then at their slender five-digited hands and felt quite roly-poly. Even Wirt, with his fine features and long leggy-legs, had the Woodsfolk curse of shortthumbs.
“Ladies, Ladies all, come gather, welcome our dear friend Wirt and his somewhat sturdy companion. Who’s name I do not know, and do not want to if she would rather not give it. My name, dear treasure, is Audrey.”
Well named. A noble strength was present in her demeanour all rightly. I felt giddy surrounded by such comeliness
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