2. PICKING UP THE PIECES
Archie was, at last, allowing himself to mourn. He sat next to Mistress’ head, occasionally licking her cheek, and letting out long, low, keening wails of loss for his mother.
She would have been proud of the way he’d reacted to the emergency. She’d drummed the point into him, time and time again, that a good familiar always puts Mistress first. So when Archimedes scrambled, sodden, onto the rocks that lined the creek and beheld
Dust from the last rock-slide was still coiling through the air, visible in a thin spear of light which lanced through a hole in the cavern roof some fifty feet above. Striding into the spotlight were two dessert camouflage clad soldiers carrying hefty battle-packs. One of them was tall, stocky and dark, eyes scanning from side to sides, the other short, slender and pale, brows furrowed in thought. A quick, silent flurry of hand movements passed between them, they grabbed a brisk hug and the shorter
It would be easy to say that before the previous Totem of Man, Jacques Thuram, crashed into her life Ellie was a ‘normal’ young human woman, but that invites the inevitable question of what constitutes ‘normal’. Ellie was both as unique and idiosyncratic as the next girl but she didn’t stand out from the crowd, either physically or mentally. She was both pretty and smart, though neither to startling extremes, but nor was she forgettable, possessing a bubbly, humorous and endearing personality. I
1.
Loquaciousness does not come easily to me. I have seen much, and spoken of it little, but there are those who persist in pestering me to do so. It seems that nothing short of a full and frank account of my understanding and involvement in the adventures of Ellie Baxter will suffice. I have at last relented and undertaken to write my story for those who care to read it. I will tell it in my own words, and in my own way. If that does not satisfy then I shall care not a whit for I
1. KNOCK-KNOCK
There was a cautious knock at the door but Elsie didn’t notice, sunken, as she was, deep in contemplation over the cryptic margin notes of her newest fairy textbook. But the soft rat-a-tat didn’t escape the notice of her hyperactive fuzzball, Archimedes. His little black kitten ears popped up over the edge of the cardboard box he’d been happily chasing his tail inside and were quickly followed by excited, moss-green eyes and a fuzzy feline smile.
“Door
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