The Windvale Sprites by Mackenzie Crook Read Free Book Online

moved on the moor it would give him an idea of the sort of terrain the creatures preferred.
    The day before the storm Asa’s dad had taken him to get all the things he would need for the school trip and they had remained packed in his new rucksack at the end of the bed. He checked everything and repacked the bag. He had a brand-new tent (unfortunately it was bright yellow but Asa had some camouflage ideas), an ingenious tin spirit stove which all packed away inside a small saucepan, a sleeping bag and a roll-mat. To this he added his binoculars and the maps of the moor. Clothes, Asa decided, were not a priority so he packed as little as possible but made sure he had enough waterproofs. The remaining space in the rucksack he packed with food supplies raided from the kitchen: a few cans, dried noodles, cereal bars. He envisaged being hungry by the time he got home but he didn’t have the space to carry more.
    Next he went about collecting the bits he needed for the trap according to the instructions in the book. So as not to leave fingerprints that the sprites might smell he wore some old gardening gloves to pick up a tin bucket which he tied on to the side of his bike. He found a trowel and various lengths of twine in the shed and a spool of fishing wire that he put inside. Then he selected three large old sweet jars in which he hoped to put his captured specimens.
    With everything secured he hauled the rucksack on to his bag and wheeled the bike out on to the pavement.
    He soon realised, as he struggled to keep the bike upright, that this time the journey would take a lot longer than two hours. On long, flat stretches he could get up to a relatively good speed but as soon as there was the slightest incline he had to dismount and walk. As he pushed the laden bike up one of these hills with the jars and buckets clanking he imagined he looked like Benjamin Tooth returning to his farmhouse after an unsuccessful trip to town to sell his potions.
    The journey to Windvale took him most of the day. Not only did he have a heavy load but now he felt the need to hide in the bushes at the side of the road every time a car came by. It was quite conceivable that a friend of his parents could be driving past and recognise him, and he did look slightly conspicuous, like a travelling tinker.

     

    *
     
    The journey took the rest of the afternoon and the shadows were beginning to lengthen when Asa eventually arrived on the edge of the Moor. The bike was now a hindrance as he could not cycle across the long grass and so he left it well hidden under a rocky bank. With the bucket and jars slung about him Asa now resembled some kind of one-man band as he set out on to the moor. The rucksack was heavy and he soon decided to look for a likely base camp so that he could dump most of the weight. He headed north towards the stretch of river where Tooth had sighted the sprites most frequently. He came to a point where the ground fell steeply away below a long ridge that sheltered numerous crags and hollows. Asa found one, not quite deep enough to be called a cave but it was well sheltered from the wind and there was room to pitch his tent. Once it was up he tied bunches of grass and reeds to the outside until it looked like a part of the landscape and he put his rucksack inside.
    He sat down in front of the tent and spent an hour scanning the landscape through his binoculars. Birds and insects went about their business in the long grass but no sign of the hobby and no sprites.
    Before too long his eyes started to droop and, though it was still early evening, the previous night’s lack of sleep and the exhausting journey there was taking its toll. He crawled into his sleeping bag and lay for a while listening to the strange silence of the moor. The wind ruffled the tent and he heard the occasional shriek of a barn owl but before very long he was fast asleep.

12
     

Tooth’s House
     
     
    It took Asa a few minutes to figure out where he was when