The Windvale Sprites (9 page)

Straight away he knew he wanted the sprite to have enough room to fly around and, remembering how last summer a starling had got trapped in the greenhouse, he decided to see if it could be made into a suitable home.

At the end of the garden, obscured from the view of the kitchen window by a holly hedge, the recently repaired greenhouse was ideal.

He started by fixing netting over the windows at the top so they could be opened to let in fresh air. Back in the garage he unscrewed the legs of the hutch and, by putting it on his skateboard, was able to wheel it relatively smoothly down the garden. He placed it on the ground in the corner of the greenhouse and taking a spade and wheelbarrow he proceeded to pile earth and compost on top, leaving the entrance clear. Down by the pond he pulled great handfuls of long grass which came up with a wad of roots which he planted all over the mound until it started to resemble a burrow in a grassy bank.

Asa then carried the broken remains of Dad’s tomato vines back into the greenhouse and tried to untangle them. Those that could be saved he replanted in pots and the snapped stems he hung up at the glass to provide shade and cover. He wedged some branches high up for perches and by the end of two hours he had created a nice little habitat that looked a lot more appealing than a birdcage. He made sure the greenhouse door was slid shut and then carefully reached in and pulled open the front of the guinea-pig hutch.

All was quiet and still from inside and Asa withdrew to the opposite corner of the greenhouse and watched like a statue. He didn’t have to wait for long before he heard a faint shuffling and saw a shape edging to the front of the box. Suddenly the sprite shot out of the hutch and flew vertically upwards, slamming into the roof. It fell down, momentarily dazed but then zipped across, ricocheting off the glass. Asa threw up his hands, wanting to stop it, wanting to catch it and prevent it hurting itself, but that only terrified the creature more and it became even more frantic.

Deciding that recapturing it would be impossible, Asa lowered his arms and stood very still. Then he slowly started to lower himself down so that he was sitting in the corner clasping his knees. The sprite, dazed and exhausted, slowed a bit. It hid in the tomato vines, watching Asa and catching its breath before again attacking the glass in three or four places. It soon learned that the panes were solid but was clearly confused by it, touching the glass with its fingertips and pushing with its shoulder. All the while it kept an eye on Asa who sat as still as stone in the corner.

Asa watched as it searched for a means of escape but after about ten minutes it disappeared back into the hutch and didn’t come out.

He slowly got to his feet, sneaked out of the greenhouse and set about thinking what the sprite might like to eat.

In the kitchen he chopped soft fruit into small pieces – grapes, banana, tomatoes – and poured some honey into a saucer. He gathered a large vase of flowers from the garden, ones that insects seemed particularly to like and even found a few caterpillars, which he put in a jar. Returning to the greenhouse he laid the offerings on the ground in front of the mound and settled again in the far corner to read some more of Tooth’s journal.

For the next two days Asa spent most of his time in the greenhouse. The sprite eventually became less nervous and would venture out of the hutch and fly up to perch in the tomato vines from where it would watch him reading. But it never got closer than that and it never showed any interest in the food or water he had brought.

Benjamin Tooth, in his writing, was starting to show signs that he was quite as mad as the people of Mereton had suspected all those years ago.

He had become convinced that the tattoo the sprites wore on their chests held some sort of mystical secret and that whatever it represented had the power to grant a long life:

 

He started concentrating his efforts on one colony that inhabited a large abandoned rabbit warren about a mile from his house:

Tooth went on to describe how the sprites would periodically attempt to mount an attack, swarming him and stinging any exposed skin until he was forced to cover up completely and wear a beekeeper’s hat as he dug. But even this didn’t appear to deter them: 

Asa went to bed that night with a heavy heart. Reading about Tooth’s decimation of the colony made him feel that he was a part of the ruthless plan. Though he had endeavoured to provide a comfortable environment for his specimen the sprite was still not eating and was spending more and more time hidden from view in the burrow.

His parents were coming back in two days and he resolved that if there was no change by the end of tomorrow he would take the creature back to its home.

 

The next morning Asa let himself into the greenhouse and froze. The sprite was lying motionless at the entrance to the burrow, its rich olive-coloured skin now a pallid grey.

But as he closed the greenhouse door the creature looked up and pulled itself back out of sight.

Asa knew he had to take it back to the moor.

There were only a few pages of the journal left to read and, though he didn’t expect the story to end happily, he was curious to know what Tooth had discovered.