Rolling her shoulders twice and dropping into half a dozen squats, she shook the tension from her limbs to psych herself up. She wouldn’t make an ass of herself in front of the kids shoveling dung into the middens. Or land face first in the middens either. Positive thinking would give her wings. With a deep breath, she pumped her legs on the spot and launched down the track to spring into the air.
The kids had plucked up some courage though, and a poop projectile narrowly missed her head as she swung the broom under her rump. She made a face at them as she swooped by and decided on a prank of her own when she next landed. A tonic of stench would hardly make a difference in that yard but conjuring an itch cloud may do nicely. Turning her attention upward, she pivoted the broom in time to miss the walls and snapped her mouth shut against wind-borne insects in her path.
Once clear of the city and the perilous plumes of smoke from the outlying buildings that housed the more unsavory industries, she relaxed in a comfortable thermal. From there on out it was a matter of keeping the broom pointed in the right direction and avoiding the occasional duck.
She was looking forward to tomorrow’s venture at the county fair and thought her crop of pumpkins stood a good chance of snagging a ribbon. With Nora officiating the competition, she’d made it crystal clear that magic was prohibited. But with the wood nymphs giving her garden a helping hand at a working bee at her cottage, she could solemnly swear her magic played no part in its impressive girth.
The skies ahead of her looked blue as far as she could see, and she smelled no hint of moisture in the air. She hoped fair weather would follow her travels and that after showing off her green thumb, she’d have enough time to taste-test every barrel of ale brought in by hopeful brewers. The fair was one of the few events in the year which Gretchen looked forward to, and for the first time in years, she had the means to enjoy herself. If not for guarding her pumpkins against sabotage from vindictive types, she’d have likely booked a room at a well-to-do tavern. Well, maybe not all that fancy.
When the fields below arranged into a familiar pattern of brilliant, yellow canola butted against leafy, green lucerne, she edged slowly downward. Ahead was the edge of dense forest close to her cottage, a dwelling off the beaten track which was just as she liked it. She dipped into lower wind drifts more frequented by smaller birds and turned circles around her freshly thatched roof. As she nosedived to land, she muttered a prayer to whatever passing deity might heed her and screwed her eyes shut. Her boots brushed past leaves in the trees and dragged enough to veer the broom. Her eyes snapped open just in time to register her roof as the likely impact zone. She squeaked and rolled from the errant broom onto the thatch with a thump that knocked the wind from her lungs.
“Yoo-hoo! Everything okay up there?”
Gretchen cringed and rolled on her back to stare up at the sky. What was Nora doing here? She sucked in a few deep breaths and sat up.
“I’m fine. Just checking the thatch is all. Seems to be holding up well.” She unsnagged her dress from the hardened reeds and shuffled down toward her garden.
“Sure,” Nora scoffed. “I’m starting to see why it needed repairing in the first place.”
Gretchen climbed down the accommodating lattice on the north side of her house, mindful not to damage the caapi vine on the way down. When her boots hit the ground, she turned to frown at Nora sitting on her favorite garden bench.
“And what are you doing here, then? Isn’t it against the fair’s rules or something?” She couldn’t help the smug smile as she cast her eye over her fat crop basking in the afternoon sun.
“Hardly.” Nora slapped her knee and stood to circle the largest pumpkin, which was a good deal bigger than the rest. “Not when I’d wager Mildred’s harvest is plumper than this lot. You know she took hers off the vine last week? Didn’t want to risk it spoiling.”
Gretchen’s lip curled at the mention of Mildred. Snooty green thumb she was.
“Gives her the perfect excuse when she doesn’t win this year.” Gretchen sniffed. “It’s about time someone knocked that woman down a peg or two.”
“Oh come, now,” Nora snorted. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Let’s go have some tea.”
Gretchen bit back a reply and followed Nora inside, glaring at her broom which dangled from a tree by the window.
“So, what are you doing here, anyhow?” Gretchen scraped her boots on the way in and prodded the fire back to life before putting the kettle on.
“Just passing through. Thought I’d stop in before making my way to Oakdale. There’s a special dinner for the judges tonight before things kick off in the morning.”
Gretchen filled her teapot and gave an appreciative murmur. Her cottage wasn’t on the way to Oakdale from the baron’s estate, but she’d bet money on Nora coming from The Salt and Bog, which was her usual haunt.
“So how do you plan on getting that pumpkin to the fair? I don’t suppose it would fit in that pouch of yours?”
Gretchen slid the tea tray onto the kitchen table and fixed Nora with a level stare. On account of the confidentiality agreement she signed, she couldn’t tell her friend how she’d gotten the means to buy the infinity pouch, so she’d made up some story about inheriting it. Nora didn’t believe a word of it.
“Jurgen will be by in the morning with a cart, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Nora cleared her throat as she poured for both and planted a warm smile on her face. “Oh, I think he did
