In Rhys's Cottage
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 117733
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Fred fell deeply into despair upon hearing his words, but at least his proposition lit a faint glow of hope in her little toady heart. At least, even if she couldn't return to what she had once been—a fact that she had been actively battling against accepting for a while now—her quality of life could improve substantially from struggling for survival day after day while living right next to the witch who had done this to her. Rhys's voice shook her out of her thoughts: "If you're not in there by the time I'm done here, you've made your choice." She suddenly realized that he had lain a small empty pouch on the ground beside her, and was now returning to the fire he had made. She sat there watching for a few minutes before deciding she didn't quite enjoy what she was seeing, and wriggling into the pouch. She waited about an hour before he lifted the pouch, gentle but swift, and hooked it to the front of his belt, leaving it open. She swayed slightly, hating the sensation, but she'd be lying if she claimed not to be totally accustomed to being this small by this point. She was three years into her toady life. She wondered if he could tell her how much time she had left before she... well... croaked. The journey to wherever he was going took a couple weeks. He was conscientious of her needs, allowing her to eat frequently and sleep in dampness and stretch her legs, sometimes with small displays of magic, but he was not much of a talker, which somewhat disappointed her. But at least it was nothing she wasn't used to. At last he arrived in a sizeable cottage in a distant forest. She had little notion of where they were, but at this point, what did it matter? Directly outside of the cottage, larger than the building itself, was a lovely fenced-in garden. Immediately noticeable were several creatures, including three black cats, a number of creepy crawlies, and at least four other toads. They all ceased any movement to watch Rhys—and Fred—as he entered. "Witches aren't very original," Rhys said dryly as he held Fred in his hand. "Right, so, quick tour, the toads usually hang out around that pond in the garden. The bugs stay away so you never have to worry about who you might be eating—just don't ever start munching when you're anywhere else. Apropos of that, stay away from the cats; instincts can be hard to override, but they know never to go into the garden, at least when they're hungry. You should act similarly and not leave the garden without good reason. Dunno if you can read, but I've got a couple books you can peruse at your leisure if you find it possible. Otherwise, do not touch my stuff. More for your sake than mine." He let her down onto the wooden floor in the doorway to the garden, and Fred sat there tensely, blinking at all the creatures blinking back at her. She didn't know how to feel at first. But over the course of a few days, she gradually decided she might be able to be comfortable here. In total, as he noted aloud to her one day, Rhys had given a home to nineteen witch victims, which were, by her count, three black cats, two bats, four bugs, one huge rat, and eight toads. Many of them often stayed separate, but Fred obviously spent a good deal of time with the other toads—a decision that seemed to be made more by her toad side than her human side. Her human side was deeply upset just looking at them, because they looked... well... like toads. And so must she. Time passed. She tried to read Rhys's books, but they were pretty boring, and written in a dialect she was unfamiliar with, and turning the pages was hard, and, as it turned out, she was extremely rusty in the whole "thinking" arena. It was simply a lesson in frustration, so she spent much of her time doing very little. She had very little to worry about in terms of survival, but she still had to put the work in to find food every day, so at least there was that. Unfortunately, six of the other seven toads were male, and when mating season came after hibernation, there was no longer any avoiding those instincts. And not so long after, tadpoles appeared in the pond. It was at this point that she abruptly began to wonder... what if some of these toads actually were just toads? It was difficult to tell from their behavior, and she had never been sure how the numbers worked out regarding the bugs she saw around here. The thought upset her greatly, how impossible it was to be sure. She wished Rhys would be more specific, but he was barely ever even around; usually he was out witch hunting, and when he came back smelling of blood and sweat, he wasn't in a chatty mood. The tadpoles grew into tiny little toads, which Fred felt some affection for despite herself. Not all survived, but enough did, and suddenly the toad population grew substantially. And not too long after that, it was time to go back to sleep, huddled in a slimy hole in the garden for about half the year. When Fred woke up, she felt her instincts calling, but she also felt something else: age. She was getting on in years, and didn't know how much time she had left. And maybe that was okay. She wasn't doing anything with that time anyway. It was about two months and one more batch of tadpoles later that Rhys came home with a grey bat that was definitely no bat. Fred was feeling downright elderly by this point, having difficulty moving. Rhys stayed for a few days, washing up and getting some rest, before he packed a bag and was off again. Practically the moment he was gone, the new bat flew down from the rafters, landed on the floor, and transformed before Fred's very eyes, as well as the eyes of several other animals. It became a lovely woman, appearing around perhaps the age of thirty, with pale skin and dark hair that tumbled almost to the floor. She wore a dark dress and a rich blue robe with a large pointed hood, her lips were painted black, and could not have looked more like a witch if she had tried. Fred recoiled in fear, naturally wanting to hide, but she peeked around the doorframe as the woman sighed, brushing herself off. "Well! That's much better. I thought he'd never leave." She looked around, smiling widely, at the assemblage of creatures watching her. "Good evening. My name is Ginevra. You may call me Ginnie. one half to two and a half years
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Toad
3/5/2021 10:27:44 PM
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