Woofkins & Frumpleton

Tales from Wickeldrift

An old sunken path winding between mossy banks, brambles and heather, splitting in two around a grey boulder.

Eight things are hidden on this page. Most people walk straight past them.

The narrator would like you to know that this page is not finished. Neither, frankly, is the narrator.

The narrator would also prefer to remain anonymous. It’s nothing personal. Some stories simply go better when you don’t know who is telling them.

But I really want to know who the narrator is

Book OneThe Hush

A black labrador who thinks things through. An elephant who feels things through, and now and then falls through them. Some peculiar friends along the way. And a web of very old paths that someone has been quietly keeping open for whoever comes after.

Coming along the path.

Meanwhile, in Wickeldrift

A large scalloped print pressed into sandy ground, like a flower drawn by something very heavy and very careful.
Something left this.
Nobody saw what.

Notice

Rattle-shells are to be carried at all times. A rattling village is a safe village.

You can’t be too careful.

Agreed by everyone in Willowmere.
Nobody quite remembers who suggested it.

Leave your name at the path.
We’ll send word when it’s open.

For grown-ups. We’ll write when the book is out. We won’t share your address, and you can unsubscribe whenever you like. Privacy.