1. Ilangoria. Posh British Kikimor Slang Edition

Huh. Witch's Ridge. An Unexpected Guest.

15th day of Noyal, late morning.

A frightened squirrel, having tumbled from a tree, darted between thick, hooked mushrooms and vanished into the damp bracken—for what a lark it was when the wind (or whatever was pretending to be the wind) suddenly gave the plump little thing a sharp yank by the tail!

The creature bolted in terror, whilst an unknown noua, laughing raucously, crashed through the spruce boughs straight into the tangled roots below. From there, hissing and coiling, forest vipers of every size began slithering out in all directions.

"Kingdom of the forest, hidden from other eyes, Ya noua yja-to!" the noua declared imperiously.

From the mist at the forest's edge emerged an ancient tree, thick with black acorns (the very sort from which all magic springs). It slowly nudged aside the low grey clouds, stretching its branches proudly in every direction. Its roots, pushing up through the earth, sent countless paths stretching into the distance, spreading and winding until they disappeared into the far mountains.

In a burrow beneath the oak, a tiny forest yh-olua awoke and gave a blissful yawn.

Soon enough, though, the little sleepyhead pricked up her long ears, filling with the first notes of unease—everything around her had come to life: the dried flowers hanging like curtains at the windows began chiming on their long, thin stems; the shutters made of roots clattered on either side; dust rose in billowing clouds.

"Blimey, witches' mischief! What ailment's keeping you from sleeping?" croaked the drowsy little one hoarsely, scrunching up like a woodland toad and scratching herself, clearly miffed that her lovely dream had slipped away.

Through the open window came flying a hefty nut; Ilangoria squeaked and leapt to the window frame, split clean in two. Having struggled to shut the window, she only startled the woodland rats; the culprit who'd caused the commotion was already long gone.

"Every witch has a chur; seeking paths ahead, but this one absolutely reeks," grumbled Ilanke, barely poking her nose through the crack.

"If it's not a chur that's crept into our ancient forest, then who might it be? Nuts don't go flying about at folk's heads of their own accord!" chattered Ilangoria, in whose head fear was already stirring: "There's a crafty one—slipped past the magical barriers! He knows far too well when and whom he can catch at home, and he's utterly shameless, appearing at such an early hour for any spirit!"

The girl's heart leapt straight to her boots at such thoughts, and she quickly scurried down, hiding. After sitting quietly for some time, listening and sniffing about, the little one pressed herself to the frame again, looked about meekly, and scratched her head earnestly: everything around was stretching and rejoicing in the first drops of rain, but she suddenly felt rather glum.

"Oh, such a sweet morning spoiled."

"Wicked phantom, wicked guest, show yourself!" the girl mumbled through the crack and clicked her tongue, scowling. "I shan't let myself be bullied!"

No answer came.

Thoroughly cross now, the little one tumbled down and, sighing with displeasure, opened the door and poked her head outside.

Noyal- September; Noya - A special powerful force(s) or creature(s) ; Ya noya ya-to - I breathe life into you! ; Olua were special forest or field creatures from certain magical places. They always appeared (to the uninitiated human eye) in the form of animals, but were in reality a vanishing magical people. Time for the olua passed slowly and peacefully, which is why they scarcely aged and knew nothing of old age. ; A lesser malevolent earth spirit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzJPvWxlSZY&t=3s

Continue reading: (update soon)
______________________________________
British Kikimor Edition list of contents: (British Kikimor Edition - Posh Bog Standard

When you fancy your magical creatures with a proper accent but still want them to tell everyone exactly where to shove their wands. We've refined our swamp dwellers without removing their charming habit of creative cursing. It's aristocratic rudeness with working-class honesty - like having tea with the Queen whilst she's telling you precisely what she thinks of your questionable life choices.)
_______________________________________
Ready to leg it after witches through the mystical forests of Yaluvete? Pack your wellies and your wits - these aren't your garden-variety broomstick riders. Our witches bite back, the trees have opinions, and the only thing more twisted than the paths are the creatures you'll meet along the way. Perfect for those who think a nice countryside ramble needs more mortal peril and significantly less tea and biscuits. Follow THE GREAT HUNT ON PATREON Ilangoria