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The witch sneers. "One last chance to speak and that is what you ask? You hardly know her. The girl is of no consequence." She takes an agonizingly long pause. "But, I suppose I shall tell you... Do you know what happens to the body of a witch? After a certain amount of time has passed--a very long time, mind you, but it comes for us all eventually--it begins to wither. I must drink a potion daily to keep my youth and beauty, and the ingredients are not easy to come by. But today I had a stroke of luck. You see, Diana awakened just as I approached the two of you, and pleaded that I spare you. Since I am rather fond of my current looks, and she matches them almost perfectly, I offered her a deal: I would not kill you if she let me inhabit her body. And she agreed." Fred stares (if coins can stare) in horror. The witch cackles nastily. "And no, she does not know what I did instead of kill you." There is a shimmer in the air, and Zanobia is gone. Hours pass. Fred cannot stand the nothingness that he feels. He yearns to stretch his body, and wiggle his fingers, but he cannot; he has no body left to move. It is not even a day before he slips into a twilight sleep, and is unaware of anything but a soft gold veil surrounding him. Such is the life of a coin in a dragon's hoard. Time loses all meaning, and so he has no idea how much time has passed when he suddenly, very suddenly, becomes self-aware again. He is lying stark naked, not on a pile of treasure, but in a warm bed. Feeling rushes back to him—the terrible cold, the pitter-patter of rain, the soreness that shoots through his body every time he moves a muscle. It is too much! He curls into a ball and groans. "Do not be afraid, sir," a rough female voice says. "You are whole again. How do you feel?" When Fred tries to speak, he cannot form words; he is far too out of practice. Exhaustion quickly sets in, and he loses all awareness again. It is the first time in a long time he has slept, and waking up is just lovely. Soft morning light falls on his bed, and he finds himself now wearing a thick robe, with a bowl of soup next to his bed. Instincts take over and he gobbles up the soup, savoring each bite and feeling great sadness when it is gone. Now comes the question of how to proceed...
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