Nettlewooz Vol. 1. Stefan Seitz

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СКАЧАТЬ he had anticipated. He flew above the shingled roofs, having decided to take the church steeple as his reference point. However, he couldn’t see it anywhere.

      “It must be here somewhere,” he grumbled. “I must have flown over it more than a hundred times.”

      Then he noticed something else. A shadow in the fog, far bigger than he was. It wasn’t far away and seemed to be heading directly for him. Primus gulped. A moment later, he realised what had been heading towards him. An owl which had evidently lost its way, too. It screeched, and Primus ducked in order to avoid a mid-air collision.

      “Clattering cupcakes!” he exclaimed as the owl passed him. “Is every feathered creature trying to give me a heart attack tonight?”

      He looked around, shouting a last imprecation at the owl’s disappearing figure. He pulled a couple of faces at it, stuck his tongue out, and then turned to look where he was going. Too late! There was a crash, and everything went black. Primus had found the church steeple after all.

      At full speed, Primus had clattered into it. He clung to it for a moment then there was a scrunching sound as he slithered down the clock face, landing on his stomach on the window sill. It was several minutes before he came to.

      “Ohhhhh, what a night,” he groaned. “Nearly crushed by Bucklewhee’s clock, and now this.” He held his head. “Did my horoscope today say that a clock was going to kill me one way or another?” He looked up at the sky and bellowed: “IS IT WRITTEN IN THE STARS OR SOMETHING??? IF SO, THEN I CAN’T SEE IT BECAUSE OF THE BLITHERING FOG!!!”

      Sulkily, he brushed the dust off his wings. “I should have stayed in bed.” He manoeuvred himself into a sitting position on the window sill and let his wings drop.

      “Oh well,” he murmured. “I’ll just have to come back tomorrow. I just hope that none of the Burdock Villagers witnessed me making a chump of myself. Otherwise they’ll all be clapping me when I come here rather than running away from me.”

      He took a deep breath and moved his limbs. But as he pulled his head in to move it from side to side, he suddenly stopped, his eyes wide.

      “What’s that all about?” he said, astonished. “I’ve never seen that before.”

      Just by the window, a hook was sticking out of the wall, with the end of a rope knotted to it. Primus stared in silent amazement at the rope, which ascended tautly up the steeple. A strange contraption which looked mighty suspicious to him. He immediately shook himself and cast a critical eye over the hook.

      “Not rusty,” he said to himself. “That’s a brand-new hook. The Burdockians surely don’t want to …?! Hmm. I need a closer look.”

      With a fiendish grin, he pushed himself off the window sill and flew upwards to have a snoop at the rope.

      The higher Primus flew, the more broadly he grinned. The rope smelled just as new as the hook looked. A little way above the steeple, he spotted a little metal cog which was fixed to the wall. The rope was wound around the cog and then ran horizontally across the steeple wall. Primus could hardly believe his eyes when he saw what the Burdockians had come up with. Here, where he normally circled around, was a gigantic snow shovel. This had been fastened to the corner of the further side of the steeple, while the rope was bent around the steeple, holding the shovel in place like a catapult. Primus immediately realised who the target of this defence mechanism was intended to be.

      “Well, blow me down,” he whispered. “I’d never have imagined the scaredy-cat Burdockians could be so creative. Now they’re even inventing weapons to use against me.”

      If it hadn’t been so foggy that night, Primus would have performed his usual circuit around the steeple, screeching his head off as he did so. It would only have taken someone to have cut the rope at the right moment and the shovel would have clobbered him so hard that his recent encounter with the steeple would have seemed like a mild bump.

      “Those sneaky Burdockians won’t get rid of me that way,” Primus chuckled. “That snow shovel will probably end up hanging there all year, and they’ll all forget it’s there. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all started looking for it, come Winter.”

      He looked around. The fog had meanwhile lifted slightly. He could even make out the roof of the patisserie some way off. Excellent. He flew to the ground and made his way down the narrow streets. The houses all had their shutters up. The only light came from the old street lantern in the market place; the merry sounds of drinking came from behind the door of the inn.

      Primus flapped his way through the underskirts hanging on the washing lines as he neared the patisserie. He could smell the fresh baking even from a distance. The front door was locked. However, this didn’t worry him unduly, as the cat-flap was always open. He slipped inside, flew around the shop for a moment, then assumed his human form.

      It was pitch dark, apart from the pale moonlight which fell through the window. However, Primus soon found his bearings. He knew where to find the till, and he knew where the cake trays were. He crept on tiptoe across the room, gradually becoming accustomed to the dark. Finally, he saw the shelves. His mouth watered. He hadn’t expected there to be so many cakes. The trays were practically bursting with them.

      Enraptured, Primus shut his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent. “Raspberry cake,” he sighed with delight. “Even tastier than cherry cake.”

      The night hadn’t been a disaster after all. He immediately dived into the first tray, hopped up onto the counter, and started to fill his stomach. As always, it was a veritable feast.

      “Ahh … delicious,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cake. “One of the best I’ve ever eaten.” He took a bite out of another piece and rolled his eyes. “No, it’s the very best. No two ways about it.”

      It was always the same. Every time Primus snitched cakes, he declared them to be the best he had ever eaten.

      After some while, he had finally eaten his fill. Now he just had to deal with his friends’ requests. He opened a drawer behind the counter, fished out the sunflower seeds, and filled his pockets with them. He was sadly unable to find any redcurrants, so took a few sesame seeds instead. Primus knew Bucklewhee well enough to know that he liked them just as much.

      Finally, he grabbed a large sheet of kitchen roll and wrapped two pieces of raspberry cake in it. These were for Snigg. The pumpkin could quite easily have troughed an entire cake, but there was a limit to how much he could carry in his bat form. Once he had finished wrapping up the cake, he put the package on the floor and pushed it through the cat-flap.

      Primus was just about to follow it, when his eye was caught by a couple of bottles on a shelf by the door.

      “Cherry juice,” the label said. “Freshly squeezed.”

      He pondered. Then he reached for one of the bottles with his pointy fingers, uncorked it, and took a long swig.

      “Not bad,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” He nodded decisively. “So, my dear Burdockians. You think I’m a vampire? Well, in that case, I won’t disappoint you.”

      He put the bottle to his lips once more and took another swig. This time he held it in his mouth. If Madam Pastry Chef had come in at that moment, she’d have fainted on the spot.

      With a diabolical expression and slightly lowered head, Primus stood by the window СКАЧАТЬ