Saturday, November 24, 2007
“So it’s a kind of quest?” Eyes that the head would one day – hopefully – grow large enough to hold stared up at their father.
“I suppose.” Winston shrugged “If you can count a task that doesn’t involve rescuing maidens from trolls and dragons a quest. I’m only going to the chip shop on Brick Kiln Street to get your mam a battered mars bar.”
“There’ll be mythical creatures, though?” Case ran his fingers across the picture book on the table. Elves and fairies and vampires?”
“Not vampires, no.” Winston looked at the cloudless day outside the window. “Werewolves though. There’s be a werewolf.”
“You mean Aunty Felicia,” said Case. “That doesn’t count.”