WIP

Experimental WIP, 200 words each day, visit, or as the muse strikes.

         Aislin Boch had had quite enough of Cathal Duul. Not only had he let the unicorns out of their pen, he'd had the dragons dragging three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree, all the way to the other side of the Citadel. "Really, Da, something needs t' be done about Cathal. If not, he'll be the wrack an' ruin o' us all."
         "Aislin, my little dove, you know better than that. He does mean well." Da drew on his pipe and shut his eyes. "I wasn't no better, myself. I still ain't. An' with the storm coming and all, I ain't that good, today, either."
          Aislin shook her head. "You're a darn sight better, an' more responsible to boot."
          “Aye, but it took me a great many years to get to this point. Your Ma, rest her, could ha' told you some right tales."
          “It could no’ be much worse than the thing’s Cathal has done.”
          “Aye, they could. Did you never hear tell o’ that one day, down at the Kraken Farm? We made a right mess o’ things, we did, me an’ my lads.”
         Aislin’s eyes widened. “Kraken?”
         Da nodded. “Aye, an’ each one with at least twelve tentacles of twenty hands, at the least.”
         "So, are you tellin' the tale, or what?" asked Aislin.
         “What tale, Lass?” Da asked.
         “The tale that’s on Kraken, Da.” Aislin tossed a mock punch at his arm. “Or can you be so infuriatin’ as th’ Cathal what ate the canary?”
         Da’s eyebrows arched. “So he’s taken up eatin’ canaries, now? Make up your mind, lassie.”
         Aislin rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. First y’ tell me he ain’t so bad, and then you’d be tellin’ me ye’ve done worse. Then y’ mention a Kraken farm. How am I knowin’ th’ story, if yer not tellin’ th’ story? Come on, spill it.”
         Da cast a sad glance towards his empty cup. “I would, lassie, but I have no tea. Storytellin’s thirsty work, ye know.” When Aislin rolled her eyes again, he added, “You’ll not be wantin’ them to stay that way, will you?”
         Aislin uttered something between a sigh and a growl, then snatched up the empty tea cup. “I’ll be getting’ yer tea for ye, then, but th’ tale better be worth both th’ tea an’ th’ tellin’, Da.”
         His eyes widened. “Have I ever told you one that weren’t worth the wait, lassie?”
         “Moon goats.”
         “Now, what would that be, lassie?” Da cocked an eyebrow at her.
         Aislin snickered. “sure, y’ don’t remember th’ one y’ tol’ me about the moon goats, now. Y’ made me be waitin’, all that time, an’ the most y’ had t’ say about the moon goats was that they gave rancid milk and bleated like cocks crowin’ in the dark.”
         Da crossed his arms. “Now, why would I be tellin’ ye a cock-an’-goat story like that one, lassie?” he asked.
          “Why would y’ be askin’ me, since y’ was the one with th’ tellin’ o’ the tale, now?” Aislin shot back. “An’ then, th’ one what of the camel tha’ lost his way in th’ desert an’ wound up I’ th’ Mermens’ den.”
         Da scratched his head. “Now, I’m not recallin’ that one either, darlin’.”
         Aislin shrugged. “See? If y’ won’t be recallin’ y’re own tales after the tellin’ o’ them, then how can I trust y’ on a tale o’ a Kraken farm?”
         Da laughed. “Get me th’ tea, darlin’, and I’ll tell ye the tale. I’ll also be tellin’ ye where my memory goes when I’ll not be usin’ it.”
         Aislin sighed. “Aye, I’ll get y’ tea.”
         Why Da felt he had to exaggerate him some, Aislin couldn’t say. She just went about making the tea. Barry’s Gold Blend, strong, with plenty of milk and sugar. A robust tea, for a robust round o’ storytellin’.
         The water’s in the kettle, then on the stove. To the refrigerator, for the cream. A nice, strong tea needs a nice, full-bodied creamer. Good. Cream’s in th’ cup, waitin’. Also good. No Kraken anywhere near the water, as there would be no Kraken farms nearby. Also good.
         Old wives’ takes are best taken with strong tea, especially when they come from your Da. Like as not, you’ll need one, possibly with a shot, ere the tale’s gone through. Like as not, you’d be needin’ several ere the tellin’ o’ the tale begins, like as not y’ ‘re old enough for ‘em.
         Back to th’ kettle. Still not quite there yet. Set up th’ tea cosy, a decent earthenware one, with dragon’s around it in th’ design. Matching cups are close by, but Da always takes his favorite, the one with the Kraken on it. O’ course, he’d be makin’ up stories about ‘em now, would he?
         And back to th’ kettle.
         By the time Aislin had done making it, and got back with the tea, Da was fast asleep, as usual. She walked out to the porch and sat drinking it. She really didn't place much faith in the idea of a Kraken 'Farm, but it was nice when Da was awake enough to talk with her. Teasing aside, those days were getting fewer and farther between. If put to the rights of it, Da had been getting a bit worse off, on some days, more than others, since Ma passed on, May Her Ghost Rest In Eternal And Slumbering Peace.
         The best thing with the unicorns was to let them come back on their own, when they got hungry enough to care. The domestic herds were like as all that, though the wild ones rare as it were would at times come right up to you and eat from your hand.
         The next best thing about a unicorn is, they would let you pet them, so long as you were pure of heart. She had seen her own Da petting and cooing to them, and on more than one occasion.
         What they had to watch out for were the lions.
         The lions were big, mean, hungry cats.
         Like everything else in this land, they had been touched by the Wild Magic, so their rear limbs had turned into wings. They had developed a new, feathered hind section to replace the rear legs, with wicked talons that were very much like crow's feet.. The forelimbs were still furred paws with nasty claws. Their muzzles, though still recognizable as such, and with big, harp, nasty teeth, had widened a bit across their faces and grown a point that the upper lip drooped downwards to a bit of a point. It was very much like a furred, leonine beak.
         The big, mean meat eaters favored unicorn meat, when and as they could get it. Dragons were the only creatures they feared. Men and women with guns were neither big, nor loud, enough to scare them off.
         Another of Da's tales, and one he'd stayed awake for, was when he used to be a lion wrangler for the traveling circus. He mentioned how they'd get one of the smaller clowns to dress like a Princess, and then he'd come flying in on one of 'em and save her.
         That yarn had always amused her.
         Still, with Da sleepin', th' tea was, like as not, t' get cold. She placed th' saucer over th' cup, tryin' t' keep it warm for a bit, then went back into th' kitchen. T' was high time t' think o' supper.
         She saw a shadow from th' window, from th' corner o' her eye. Like as not it was th' clouds, since a storm was comin'. At least, so Da said earlier.
         With a shake o' her head, Aislin turned back t' th' task o' decidin' on what they would be havin' for their supper.Th' best would be stobhach gaelach. They had enough on hand for th' stew, an she could put off shoppin' for a day.
         The loud bellow from outside the window gave her a start. She ran t' th' window, t' see what all the fus was about. Th' livestock were none too pleased, either. They ran aroun', cryin' with fear.
         It took a moment for Aislin t' see what they fretted so about, til her eyes moved up over what had caused th' shadow t' loom over them.