Tales from the Town: The Kite-Maker's Daughter

The Kite-Maker's Daughter

Angie stared at the pony with an intensity usually reserved for sweet treats, or the occasional movie hero that she'd fall in love with, if only for the duration of the film. The pony, unaware, continued to eat the hay before it.

Her father had told her not to come this far along the field. He said that everything in the outer parts of Dunwatch got a little strange, whatever that meant. The weirdest thing she had come across so far was an old wall. She had heard it had been there since before her grandparents were born, and certainly looked a little worse for wear. It stretched the length of Dunwatch, passing over the entire outskirts of Mewsbury, and it had led her journey to the field - and to the pony.

After a while of munching and sniffing, munching and sniffing, the pony finally caught her scent. Its head shot up, eyes wider than wagon wheels. Angie fell for it even further. Its fur looked so soft. Its snout was cute, and damp, glistening in the sun. She went to move towards it, but the pony turned and trotted away.

"Wait!" her voice trailed off into echoes. The pony didn't hang around. Angie was forced to vault the wall and head deeper into its habitat.

Dunwatch Valley lay before her in the distance. The faint smoke from the bakery's chimney and the clock tower in the town centre just visible behind the sweeping meadows and winding hills. Angie noticed none of the grand view. Her eyes were fixed on the pony's tail, as it swung back and forth, heading into the tree line.

The forests beyond this point didn't belong to Mewsbury - that much she knew. She had barely been outside of the town in her eleven years of life - let alone past the county line - so to be beyond the measly wall was a huge adrenaline boost. Her hair fluttered around her ears as she skipped along, her glasses bouncing on the bridge of her nose. Wafts of lavender hit her as she danced through the trees. She could barely see the pony now, but Angie's mind had wondered onto other things. She could hear a stream. Or was it a waterfall? Her father had never told her how beautiful this area was, and thinking of it, he had never told Angie why it was strange. He hadn't said it was dangerous, or out of bounds, just that it was an odd place. It wouldn't be long till Angie found out what that meant.

"Hey... hey little girl."

The voice came from nowhere. Angie stopped dead and surveyed the clearing. She could hear the water flowing nearby, but this voice sounded closer. They sounded old, at least from Angie's perspective.

"Hello?" she replied cautiously. She had no reason to fear old people, or at the very least people who sounded as old as this woman did.

"What are you doing here?" the woman asked. "Don't you know this isn't a place for little people."

Angie looked about again, trying to pinpoint the voice. "Little people?" she questioned. "Father says I'm quite tall for my age."

The voice spluttered and muddled the beginning of her follow-up question. "You know what I mean! What are you doing here?"

Angie recalled the pony. "Um, well, I..." she tried once more to see the owner of the voice, but had no luck. "I was following that pony."

"I knew it!" shouted another male voice. "Get her!"

A small fluffy animal appeared from the under-growth, darting toward Angie. She screamed, kicking the forest floor at the creature until it stopped to brush bits of leaf and dried mud out of its fur. She looked the creature up and down, turning for the path she had come down, only to be stopped by another similar looking animal. She froze. It crept towards her, paws outstretched, waiting for the time to pounce. She turned back to see the first one almost at her ankles.