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The Fredberry was outraged by this notion, but also terrified. She was helpless! She couldn't speak or move or even emote properly; her face was entirely puffed out with juice. The dwarves went about their business, presumably regularly checking the tree, for some time while Fred simply sat there. She soon began dozing frequently, with nothing else to do. In her dreams, she was sometimes a knight, and sometimes a girl, and sometimes a piece of fruit. But at least there was some variety to be had there. Days turned to weeks turned to months. Occasionally, the dwarves would roll her to a different part of the cottage, presumably for a change of scenery, which she always appreciated. But otherwise, they ignored her almost entirely. Her mind became rusty, wasting away and crumbling as she had no social interaction or even opportunity to go outside and feel the sun on her skin. Eventually the only thought she was able to think was to hope that they did bring another fruit home, even if she couldn't even remember why this was desirable. It was at least a year before...
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