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Her long journey was getting to her, Fred thought as her eyelids became heavier and heavier. It ought to be safe to sleep here... She was grateful to have found this place.
She fell asleep mid-bite and got stew all over her dress, but it did not wake her up. A stick of dynamite (pardon the anachronism) wouldn't wake her up now.
When she did start to crawl back to consciousness some time later, Fred found herself arranged on Wenda's bed, while the crone sat at her table, knitting. But that wasn't all Fred found:
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she had gained a good ten pounds. She'd had a tiny figure before, so she still looked great, but it was noticeable. For some reason, though, it didn't bother Fred. In fact, some more stew sounded amazing right about now.
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she could not remember who she was or how she'd come to be here.
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she had taken the form of a sleek black cat.
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she had taken the form of a toad.
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her hands and feet were bound together, and she was gagged.
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the trees outside, which had been deep green and leafy before, were bare, and dead leaves littered the ground. How long had she been asleep?!
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