Miranda Kate's Blog, page 22

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 204

This week's picture prompt was taken by photographer, Leo Fry, for Forest sculptor Spencer Byles who spent a year creating these large-scale works of art deep in the woods of La Colle sur Loup, Villeneuve-Loubet, and Mougins.

A snippet from my Tricky tales again. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.



Circle of Light

Tricky pushed her way through the dense forest. There was no clear path in sight; she used her senses to guide her. A strong dark energy pulled her in. It was a deeper shade of green than any she’d come across when working with the trees.

She came to a clearing, and within it found a circular construction of entwined branches. Man made? She stepped up to one and put her hand on it. She immediately swooned backwards, taken over by an abrupt spinning sensation as a vivid luminous green energy shot through her. She removed her hand. It was a vortex of energy, something humans weren’t capable of forming.

She debated stepping through it. If she did, she might move into another world. Tricky grinned. Intriguing. She couldn’t possibly resist. You didn’t discover things by taking the cautious route.

She lifted her foot and put it on the other side of the twisted braid of branches, bracing herself. The green light hit her again and she let it sweep through her, taking over her own; it was the only way to withstand it.

The further in she walked, the more circles she found, reducing in size, one behind the other, like a telescope of giant twisting portals.

The energy beat through her body and filled her with a buzz she had never felt before. It made her want to spring and bounce. She let out a raucous belly laugh, helpless to stop it and found it was the only way to get through it.

Oh she hadn’t felt this much joy in a long time. The closest she had come to this was when she had bedded John Thatcher. He’d known how to keep things lively. She missed him. As her mood turned wistful the energy followed and she found her mind travelling to all sorts of places she hadn’t visited in a long time, the energy opening her up to the full range of emotions.

By the time she had reached the last one, she was bawling wantonly. She didn’t care. Sometimes it just had to come out; no one was ever served by bottling up their emotions.

She had to get on her knees and crawl through the last one, and as she did so she saw the shimmer ahead of her. It was her time bubble where she had stashed the jewels. Why had it manifested?

Tricky was immediately on alert. Had someone been here? Had someone seen her when she had stashed the stones? Surely not. She took a breath and swept her arms from her feet to her head several times, sealing in her energy and protecting herself from whatever she might find in the shimmer.

She moved sideways into it, unsure what to expect, but there was only the shelf she had created to place the bag of stones on. It glowed green like the light inside the circles. Something inside was leaking out.

Tricky opened it carefully and took out the glowing green stone. It was her mother’s piece of Jade. It was a large stone, taking up Tricky’s palm as she held it. The glow faded and the colour changed from lime back to dark leaf green.

Tricky took a breath, feeling the light energy leave her as it returned to the stone. She wondered why it had come alight. Had it been calling to her? Had it been trying to reach out and beckon her here to collect it? Was this part of the larger game at play? Jade was a highly protective stone. It would aid Tricky to remain on her true path and shield her from unwanted energies. It was a necessary aid in her journey.

She returned it to the bag, which she then placed in one of her pockets. She stepped out of the shimmer and took another breath, this time exhaling after into the shimmer, which made a popping sound as it vanished.

She turned to find the circles of twined wood gone. There wasn’t even a trace that they had been there, only the clearing. Tricky didn’t want to spend too much time pondering – not out here with the trees. They would delight in influencing her thoughts. She wasn’t the only tricky one out here, especially this woods which had many new and untouched species. She needed to get the stash back to her cabin quick smart.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 203

This week's picture prompt is from American artist Mark Hadley. He has some incredible art and is definitely worth checking out. 

As I am putting together Tricky's new book, there are snippets to be had. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Clarity
Tricky crept into the glade. They’d know she was here, but she didn’t want to startle them all the same. She sat on the thick moss carpet and crossed her legs, letting out a long breath. Time in the glade seemed to still and shimmer.

It had been a long time since she’d sought their help, but she was stumped with a way forward and knew that time spent with them would bring her clarity.

One by one the butterflies began to appear until they spiralled up and down in a spinning kaleidoscope, the light catching their delicate wings turning them all colours of the rainbow. Tricky waited.

From the tops of the trees came a swishing sound and she knew they had arrived. The air glittered and one by one the spinning butterflies grew, taking on limbs and bodies, and with a flutter of a wing faces appeared.

They landed one by one on her head and shoulders, and knees and arms until they were all standing facing her. Tricky tried to remain passive and not be unnerved. She reminded herself they were friendly and not about to rip her face off. But she didn’t trust easy and the thought made her twitch as she endeavoured to remain calm, causing them to jostle about, their wings fluttering, a ripple like a wave running through them all as they maintained their balance.

Tricky took another breath and dare to close her eyes. They didn’t speak with mouth or tongue but with mind and light. She could see the question mark behind her eyelids and endeavoured to picture her predicament to them.

The single magpie and the man that controlled it, picturing Lucien Dufray in his room in the house, and then gone, and all the locations she had sought him, to no avail. She thought about the trees and their unsettled motions, and then Adric and his concern etched on that beautiful face.

She heard a fluttering occur at the sight of his face. Yes, he was a hottie and the fairies thought so too. But the picture they put in her head puzzled her.

The upside down chair from her dreams appeared, but this time with a cat sitting on it, looking at her, and not one she knew. Then another joined it and another, and they sat staring at her. Then they jumped off and the chair was turned upright, planted firmly into the ground and a mirror appeared on it, facing Tricky, and reflecting her younger self back at her. And behind her in that mirror came Adric’s face. What did it mean?

Then behind that there was water, lots of it, rushing and churning, getting closer and closer. The unsailable sea. And there was something in the water, but she couldn’t see what. Then the picture shimmered and melted away, and a road appeared, a long winding one. Yes, she had some travelling to do if she was to go to the coast.

The picture vanished and Tricky waited, but there was no more and when she opened her eyes she was alone in the glade.

She’d wanted clarity but felt more churned up than before, although now she had a direction – she had to go to the coast. But as their landmass was surrounded by it, how would she know which one?

She slapped her leg in frustration. She felt played. She’d rather they’d ripped her face off. It would have been preferable to the puzzle they posed. But the image of the path returned to her mind and she wondered if she didn’t recognise it. Wasn’t that Ferristan way?

As she made her way back out of the glade and through the forest, she became more certain that it was.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 202

This week's picture prompt is by Andrey Bobir, an artist from Kazakhstan. He does some amazing surreal art, and definitely worth checking out. He calls this one Life. 

This month I am writing the second Tricky novel, so I am going to be using these prompts to help me work my way through it. I think this makes a good start. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Signs

‘Well, would you look at that!’

‘Meow.’

‘Yes, I know, Casper, unnerving, isn’t it.’

Tricky marvelled at the chair hanging upside down in midair. She’d seen many unusual things in her time, but this one was unique. Some would say, it’s a dream so what do you expect?

But Tricky knew better. Oh yes, she did. She knew that such things didn’t occur in her dreams, not in lucid dreams like she was having now, with Annie’s cat sitting here at her feet. There was more than just a weightless chair to this little bit of subconscious titbit.

‘What do you think, Casper?’ He looked at her and then batted a paw at the plant that seemed to be holding up the chair, despite it being suspended in the air as well. ‘Yes, that is curious, but trees are my thing, and would explain the acorns on the seat too. But chairs ... mmm ... and it’s upside down. Not getting comfortable, which would portent something is about to turn my world upside down. That’s not good. And then you, Casper, why are you here?’

He looked at her and let out another meow.

‘Yes, it means there’s something I’m not seeing right. Something I believe that is false. Mmm, I don’t like that at all, not one bit.’

There was a fluttering sound. Tricky looked over her shoulder at the front door. It was open and outside there were birds gathering. A murder of crows were settling around a single magpie, like the one she’d seen the night before. It eyed her, looking straight at her. She shook her head. ‘Nope, this is not good.’

Then they all took flight, letting out screeches and Tricky winced as she watched them go, flying over the trees and away. The trees were moving, swaying their boughs deeply from left to right. Something was wrong and something was coming.

She took a breath and shushed the trees, waiting for them to slow their movement and return from their restless state.

Another meow and she looked down at Casper who was sitting on her foot. He looked up at her, bright yellow eyes staring into hers. Then she blinked and was awake, back in her cabin.

She sat up and leapt out of bed, grabbing a shawl before going outside.

She stood at the backdoor and looked across the jetty, but there were no birds to be seen anywhere. Everything was quiet in the pre-dawn light.

Tricky’s body gave an involuntary shudder. She didn’t like this, no, not one bit.

Happy Publication Day!

Today Pool of Players is released! Whoo hoo! 

This book has been a couple of years in the writing, and made my head hurt at times trying to wrap my head round the time travel element, but it is finally here. 

Sequel to my book, The Game, which is currently FREE, Pool of Players provides the answers many reader sought about, who The Jester is, what happens to David and the people in his time, and how the girls are connected to The Jester. 

Here's the blurb:

A world created in a pocket of time to provide a Pool of Players

David can’t settle back into his old life after playing The Jester’s games. Besides all the unanswered questions about why his time was created and how people are being selected for the games, he wants to find his father, but how can he slip through again?

The answer comes when he reveals the recruiters to the public, triggering a response from The Jester who grants his wish and snatches him away.

Back in the parallels, The Jester reveals his past and puts David through brutal and punishing times. An unexpected meeting with his father leaves David with a question he’s scared to answer, but attempts to speak to him again are interrupted by The Jester who wants to train David as his replacement.

Hanging out at The Jester’s house, David learns what he is capable of, and, in a bizarre twist of time, why he’s the perfect candidate.

Pool of Players is a dark, sci-fi fantasy that gives a new meaning to time travel. It's the second book in The Jester series, attempting to answer the questions left by the first book, The Game.

The Game - FREE - for 5 days!

In preparation for the release of the sequel, Pool of Players, on the 1st of June, the first book in The Jester series is FREE for the next 5 days!

29th of May to the 2nd of June 2021

Grab The Game now!

(click on the cover)

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 201

This week's picture prompt was created by British photographer and artist Svetlana Sewell. She calls this The Door. She has a wealth of pictures, so I might be visiting her site again. She is defnitely worth checking out. 

Okay, as I am ramping up to writing Tricky's second book in June, I am getting snippets of the tale and how I am going to weave it. Here's a taster.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Portal
She could see it but she couldn’t get to it. Gah! She hated not being able to reach it. What a shame she didn’t have control over water instead of time. She’d be a hero if she could find a way to navigate the unsailable sea!

Tricky stood at the shore eyeing the door. Although was it a door? She squinted against the rising moon which reflected the last of the sun’s rays into her eyes, bouncing them off whatever that thing was in the water. It looked like an open door, but what the bloody hell was a door doing out there in the middle of the water? She had no idea – even though she suspected who had put it there.

She sat on the wet sand and pulled her boots and socks off, hoisted her skirts up and tucked them into the waist band and waded into the water. It was high and rough. Wave after wave came at her, with no rhythm or cycle. They crashed across each other, going in all directions with no ebb or flow. It’s why no one had managed to find a way to sail it again – that and the lack of materials to build something that could withstand the turbulence. She began to feel sick at the constant push and pull against her, but she pushed on, getting arms length away from the door.

And it was a door, oh yes that was certain now, and it was open.

She grasped the frame of it, using it to help her fight the last of the current and get close enough to step in. She felt the energy in it vibrate through her. Only two people could have made this: one was dead, and the other had vanished.

She breathed and pulled energy up from the seabed to help her lift up out of the water until she was standing on the foot of the doorframe. The light inside was intense, and in constant motion.

She took a deep breath and reached out with her mind. She couldn’t sense anything threatening, so she took a step inside. She felt the light pulsate through her, and kept walking until she heard a voice.

‘Finally, I was wondering how long it would take you.’

‘Dufray? Is that you? Why can’t I see you?’

‘Because my physical self is not here.’

‘Is this a trap?’ Tricky took a step back.

‘No, it’s a light portal. Your mother taught me how to make them as a means to have protected conversations.’

‘And we need to have one?’

‘Yes. I’m being held against my will.’

‘Where? By who?’

‘In an underground bunker, by Stanislov.’

‘Stanislov? But you’re working with him; I’ve uncovered that much.’

‘No, I work for Tumelo as a spy, undercover, trying to root out the rest of Vincent Linley’s cronies. But someone’s revealed my true allegiance, so now they’re keeping me captive.’

‘Who is that someone?’

‘I have my suspicions but I’m not 100% sure.’

Tricky’d heard Dufray spin all sorts of tales, especially to her. If she had a mirror she’d be pulling a face right now. ‘Why should I trust anything you say after what you did to me in Ballford?’

‘I had to do that to you, it was the only way I could get you out of there, because they had plans for you.’

‘They?’

‘Yes, Stanislov’s men – well they were Carter’s men at the time, but we dispatched him so they’re now with Stanislov. I was already in with them, as you know, and I had to make it believable otherwise you would have become suspicious. And if you’d stayed and stuck your nose in, you would have ended up like your mother.’

Whenever anyone referred to her mother’s death, Tricky always received an image of her burning on that pyre. She shuddered. ‘This all sounds a little far-fetched. How do I know it’s not some trap you’re setting for them?’

‘Can you still access my tower room in the castle in Clancy?’

‘Yes, if I have to.’

‘Then do it. And you will find not only something etched into the energy of your Obsidian, but correspondence with Tumelo.’

‘Is there enough time for me to do that?’

‘You can make time, Tricky, so of course there is.’

Tricky chuckled. ‘Oh yes. Silly me.’

‘I knew you’d struggle to trust me again, but you won’t doubt me after you find them.’

Tricky was sceptical, but she wasn’t stupid. Plus she’d get her Obsidian back.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 200

This week's prompt photo was taken by Richard of Hollins - @meer_salt on twitter. It’s in the Plantation in Hollins Vale Local Nature Reserve in Bury, Lancs. 

I saw this man in my mind's eye dragging himself up the steps, so I had to write his story to find out what was going on. It's been a while since I've had a dark one.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Hope

Randy could feel the rough edge of the wood under his nails, identifying the first of the steps he had to pull his body up. His eyes kept filling with blood and sweat as he dragged himself up the first one. He now had an idea of where he was, and didn’t want to think about how long it had taken him to reach these steps. He needed to hold onto hope that he could get help in time for Sasha. The image of her bloodied face in the mud hadn’t left him.

He also kept pushing away the thoughts of the man who had done this. He couldn’t go there; he couldn’t contemplate that he might be right behind him, maybe even watching him and letting him believe he had a chance to escape.

Images flashed in his mind of the man’s face: one second it had smiled at them as they passed on the nature trail, and the next it had turned to one of rage as he slashed at them with his knife. Randy couldn’t fathom why he would do such a thing. The best he could do was keep pulling himself up the steps.

The pain in his legs was dulled only by the pain in his back. He had no idea how many times he had been stabbed, but he could at least breathe. The rattling sound from Sasha was what had got him moving. He only hoped he still had time.

He pulled himself up another step and heard a crunching sound ahead. Was that footsteps? Was someone coming? Would they help him? Then his mind filled with fear. What if it was him?

Again Randy pushed those thoughts out of his head. He could barely move; he was utterly exposed and vulnerable; there would be no fight. But hope, he could have hope.

He tried to speak but all he could do was gargle round the blood that he had been regularly swallowing. Then he heard a voice. It wasn’t a man’s voice, but a woman’s, and he felt relief so hard it brought tears to his eyes.

‘Oh my god, what happened? Oh my god.’ She crouched down next to him, not daring to touch him, and fumbled a phone out of her pocket. He heard her on the call telling someone he needed help and where they were. He tried to get her attention, and flailed an arm at her.

‘Hold on, he’s trying to tell me something. What is it, sir?’

He flailed an arm behind him and managed to form the letters of her name in his mouth, but it came out in a rush of blood. ‘Saasssaaahhh.’

‘Is there someone else?’

He gave a nod.

‘Oh god. There’s someone else,’ she said into the phone. ‘Please hurry.’

The lady stood up and seemed unsure. Randy again tried to indicate for her to go to Sasha. But then he heard footsteps behind him, and the lady’s eyes went wide. She turned and ran back up the steps and out of sight.

Someone leapt over his body up the steps, and Ryan caught a glimpse of black trousers, and a navy bomber jacket. It was the man with the knife.

Ryan stopped trying to climb the steps, knowing safety was no longer that way. Knowing there was nothing he could do. He could only hope the police would be here soon, and the man didn’t catch the lady.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 199

This week's picture prompt is by photographer Francesca Woodman. This is called this House #3, Providence, Rhode Island, 1976. She was an American/Italian artist who committed suicide in 1981 at age 22. She jumped off a building. She was in the midst of a depression, said to be caused by the lack of recognition for her art combined with the breakup of a relationship. From all her images I get the impression she didn't feel 'seen'. She created some really interesting pictures. It's such a shame.

Both the picture and the artist's personal story inspired my entry. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Invisible

She sat there in the room, but they didn’t see her. It was like she was invisible. She’d considered that maybe she was a ghost and didn’t know she was dead yet, but she could feel her heartbeat, and the pain when she dug her nails into her wrists.

She imagined just floating right out of the room, imagining the freedom, rather than the obligation of having to remain seated here, surrounded by a group of people she barely knew, who had little interest in knowing her. But she didn’t do it for them, she did it for him.

And did he see her? She was beginning to doubt it, not when he was with them. Alone he saw her, endeavoured to interact, although it felt less and less.

It was like she was fading and she couldn’t stop it from happening. There was nothing here to tether her, to keep her connected. She’d drift off inside her own head and disassociate herself from the present moment; observe rather than engage. It felt cold and empty. She circled back to the ghost reference; she felt like she was dead here.

And as she sat there trying to fight her feelings, her gaze drifted to the window and the world outside. There was life out there: green, vivid, vibrant and tangible but for the glass. Now the analogy became that of a prison. She could see life, but she couldn’t touch it or embrace it, or walk within it, she was solely forced to watch and remain powerless.

She returned her view to the people sitting round the room. All pleasant in their own right, all civil when they needed to be, but not interested, not in her. She was not one of them. She sat on the outside, on the fringes. They were here for him.

He flashed a smile from across the room, behaving as though she was actually there as an active member of his group, engaged and not sitting alone in a corner watching, left alone by those sitting nearby who chose not to talk to her. She responded with a faint smile. He seemed unconcerned and went back to his conversation.

He’d seen her for a second, now she was gone.

She got up from her seat – no one looked. She moved over to the window and stood looking out. It was a large sash window and she lifted up the bottom half to let in the breeze and the sound of the birds. Outside the flat roof to the kitchen extension beckoned. She looked over her shoulder, no one saw her.

She put one foot through and then the other and stood there, waiting to see if someone came to ask her what she was doing. Nothing. She glanced back through. They were laughing about something that had happened ten years ago, long before she’d even met him. She pulled the window down.

She walked over to the edge of the roof and sat down on the edge, dangling her legs. She peeked over the edge. It wasn’t far down. If she jumped though, she might break something. She didn’t want to do that. There was a drainpipe and ledge from a window. She pushed the pipe with her foot, it didn’t move, so she clung onto the top and lowered herself down, wrapping round it. It held. She reached her foot out to the ledge, and edged onto it. Now she was low enough to jump.

It was nice to be on the ground and out in the garden, in the green. She walked into it. It opened into a field at the end. She went through and started walking, imagining herself disappearing like a wisp. Never to be seen again.

And he never did see her again. 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 198

This week's prompt was taken by a photographer referred to as John T, in this article. But the link attached to his name's leads to a Page 404 not found. 

But in the meantime this sculpture is by Chilean sculptor Mario Irarrázabal called the Mano del Desierto (Hand of the Desert), it's located in the Atacama Desert in Chile, 75 km to the south of the city of Antofagasta, on the Panamerican Highway. The nearest point of reference is the Ciudad Empresarial La Negra . It lies between the 1309 and 1310 km marker points on the highway - should you wish to visit. Besides this, he has made some incredible things, worth a look. 

After trying to find the story I had in mind, I came up with another. I rather like it. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Ball

‘What do you feel?’

‘It’s airy and warm on the other side. It’s not what I expected.’ Ilax wiggled their fingers.

‘But Zanthed said you had to leave it there for a while to get the full effect.’

‘How long?’

‘Not sure, maybe five minutes or so.’

‘This is a trick, right? You’re going to laugh at me.’

Prixit shook their head. ‘No, I wouldn’t do that to you Ilax. It’s real, honest. You wait, soon you should feel it.’

Ilax sat there with their fingers stuck in the ball. They felt stupid, but Prixit was earnest, and they didn’t think they’d be pulling a fast one. Then Ilax felt something.

‘Oh, it feels all prickly and itchy, like there’s something on it and I can’t scratch it. Oh that’s horrid.’

Prixit laughed. ‘That’s what Zanthed said.’

‘So what do I do now? I want to take it out.’

‘No, no, give it a minute. Tolerate it for a bit, you’ll see it will be worth it.’

Ilax huffed. ‘Okay. But it better be worth it.’

‘You’ll see.’

Prixit got them some drinks, and they sucked on their straws while Ilax sat there feeling stupid.

‘Oh, it’s stopped now.’

‘Quick, take it out!’

Ilax pulled their hand back out and looked at their fingers. There were marks all over them, all different colours. Prixit got a magnifying glass and they inspected them.

‘What do you think it is?’

‘Words or something. They’re trying to communicate I think.’

‘But what are they?’

‘No one is really sure.’

‘Why don’t they just cut the ball open?’

‘Oh no, they said that would be disastrous for whatever it is living in there.’

‘So? At least we would find out. It’s not like it’s the only ball with things living in it. There are hundreds of them in the archives.’

‘I know. They said God gathered them there.’

‘I bet they did. They’re always interfering in the lives of other living things, have been for years. They’re considered a real troublemaker by Hexian law.’

‘But they didn’t stop them doing it.’

‘They never do.’

Ilax looked at his hand. ‘Can I wash this off now?’

‘No, we have to make some copies first. Let me get the scanner.’

Prixit went to fetch the apparatus as Ilax mused at the scribbling on their hand. It was fascinating.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 197

This week's picture prompt remains uncredited. The weirdest thing happened when I looked it up on Google Image Search and TinEye - no matches of it anywhere! I saved this down from Tweetdeck - maybe the person removed it, sadly I  no longer know who did share it. So if you happen to know, let me know. 

And this one gives me another Tricky story. She's so ready for her next two books to be written and giving me some great snippets! 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Spying

Tricky stayed in her position and watched them walk by. She listened to their boots crunching in the snow until it faded, then she moved out of her camouflaged spot and leaned round a tree trunk to watch them. She knew one of them but the other had yet to be named. The tree gave a slight rustle and showered her in snowflakes.

‘I know, deary, they’re trouble. It’s why I’m watching them. Did you hear what they were discussing? That’s yours truly.’ Tricky grinned. ‘Oh yes, I’m on their minds alright, and they should be worried about it.’

She stepped back into the undergrowth. She wasn’t stupid enough to walk in the open thoroughfare through the forest, not just because of the sound of the snow, or leaving tracks, but because if they were talking about her, they were having her watched – even out here. Tricky was cleverer than that.

She took a breath and inhaled, bringing up energy from the ground and trees around her. It meant she could glide through the forest unheard at twice the speed and get ahead of them again.

She found another spot, a bit higher up than the path, but it gave her a bird’s eye view. She blew out in a line towards them to create a funnel of sound so she could hear them at this distance.

‘We’ve been warned twice now. We’re clearly not being careful enough.’

‘It’s why she’s named Tricky. But that’s not her real name, surely?’

The man stopped for a second. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know who she is? Patricia Hayek! I’m paying you good money to be informed, and keep an eye on her movements. I know she’s out here in Ferristan, but none of you seem to have been able to keep her in your sights!’

Tricky snickered to herself. Serves him right thinking he could.

‘I’m sorry Mr Stanislav, but she uses magical means to stay hidden. We haven’t worked out how yet.’

‘What do you mean you haven’t worked out how? By the same means as our friend, he should be able to fill you in.’

‘He said they use different means.’

‘Then maybe he needs to do the tracking for me!’

‘But he said he couldn’t, she’d know then, see, that it was him, and blow his cover.’

Tricky’s eyes were wide and a grin spread across her face. Oh my! What a juicy piece of gossip. There was only one person that could be, but she needed to get evidence, some kind of proof, something more tangible than hearsay.

‘I can’t have that woman meddling, do you hear?’ Then he glanced round the trees. ‘Do you hear woman? I will see the end of you!’

Tricky laughed aloud this time, startling them both. ‘Oh deary, you first!’ she called.

And with that she drew a circle in the air and jump through, closing it behind her. He’d have his trackers out faster than she could say slimy cockswindler.