Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.
AN: This story is part of the Halloween Collection of the Haphne discord server. You can find the other stories here.
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We're pretty open to other shippers, so you are welcomed, no matter which pairing you prefer.
This story is from a multiple pov. I will change the pov by chapter, so this means sometimes very short chapters. Don't tell me you've not been warned. ;) I'll try to post a couple of chapters at a time if they are too short.
Many thanks to Akamoroti for beta-ing this chapter on short notice. You rock!
Carl enjoyed his morning walks.
At his old home, he'd been confined to a small compound. A couple of years ago, however, his mummy had left her old home and taken him with her. Ever since then, he lived in an enormous park with lots of room to stretch his bowlegs, lush lawns to graze on, and a well-stocked vegetable garden that was simply irresistible.
Who cared that he had to share the beautiful park with strange, white birds whose cries were louder and uglier than the honk of a goose? He could ignore them. The delicious herbs and grass he found in the park and the fresh lettuce in the vegetable garden made up for the infernal noise.
Mummy always found it funny when he raided the vegetable garden. So did her youngling, that was always with her.
Her mate, however—How his sweet mummy had ended with someone like him was beyond the grasp of his little turtle brain. Maybe there wasn't anyone else she could mate with? That had to be it. In all the almost hundred summers of his turtle life, he'd never met a lady turtle, either. Would he ever meet one? Would there ever be little Carls walking through this park and raiding the vegetable garden?
Carl heaved the turtle equivalent of a sigh.
Oh well, you couldn't have everything, and the delicious lettuce mummy's mate kept in the vegetable garden was a nice enough compensation. Food was an important thing in a turtle's life, almost as important as mating.
The thought of lettuce made him turn in the direction of the vegetable garden. A morning snack never hurt.
The lawn was still wet from dew, and a slight mist hung over the garden. The sun had already come out and would vanish the mist soon enough, although it had lost much of its power this late in the year, and the air was chilly.
The cold couldn't get to him. His mummy had ordered one of those strange-looking small creatures with bulging eyes to put what she called a Warming Charm on him. It was nice, although not as nice as when his mummy did it herself. That never happened anymore, not since she had her youngling.
Carl shuddered. Soon, that cold, white stuff would fall from the sky and put an end to his excursions to the vegetable garden. He hated the cold, it always made him lethargic. He could only hope his mummy wouldn't forget about the Warming Charms then.
In his homeland, it had never been as cold as it was here. Not that he remembered much from that time. He'd been a wee turtlelet back then, not bigger than the palm of a man's hand. One day, rough hands had shoved him into a dark box. He'd stayed there for a long time until other rough hands put him in a tiny pen. Around him were many other tiny pens that held different animals, snakes and toads, mostly, but also a few turtles.
He had to stay there for a long time, caught in a pen that was too small to walk around properly and submitted to insufficient food. And he'd always been cold.
One day, a little human with long hair came, took him out of his pen, and brought him to his old home. It was like paradise, compared to what he'd been through. His first mummy had cared well for him. There had always been plenty of food, he had a sizeable garden to himself, and his mummy had made sure he was always dry and warm. She carried a wooden stick with her and she'd wave that stick over him a couple of times each day. Every time she did that, beautiful warmth would permeate him and energise him.
However, this two-legged species didn't live as long as turtles did. As the years went by, he could watch how his mummy matured from a youngling to a mature female, mated, had her younglings, and then eventually faded away.
She'd made sure there was someone there to take care of him when she entered the Neverending Sunny Lawns. His new mummy was the youngling of one of her younglings. She had already helped his old mummy to take care of him when she was barely fresh out of the egg and couldn't quite walk.
Carl had loved his old mummy dearly, and he loved his new mummy as much as a turtle could love someone.
His mummy had made sure that he could walk the grounds of the vast estate as he pleased. A big turtle like him needed a lot of exercise and a lot of grass to stay in shape. You'd never know if you'll find a nice turtle lady one day and set about to make real of the three dozen or so little Carls populating the grounds.
He left what his mummy called the family garden and crossed the big lawn of the formal garden. There was a huge flower bed in the middle of the lawn, encircled by a low hedge of boxwood. Carl cared little for boxwood. You took a bite and had your mouth full of tiny twigs. Why should he settle for inadequate food when he had a whole vegetable garden to himself?
The big white birds strutted around the flower bed as if they owned the place. He hissed at them in passing, and they scurried away, honking.
Carl allowed himself the turtle equivalent of a grin. That would show the idiot birds who ruled the grounds!
On his way out of the formal garden, he passed the orangery at one side of the house. Its tall, floor-length gleaming windows made good mirrors, and his sedate pace gave him enough time to admire his reflection.
Again, he heaved the turtle equivalent of a sigh. For almost a hundred summers, he walked this earth, and he'd grown into a strapping turtle lad of almost five feet length from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. His turtle's shell arched in an impressive curve that would make any turtle lady swoon—and yet he'd never met one.
Sad truth: he was a hundred summer old virgin.
At least there was the vegetable garden.
He turned his head away from his reflection in the windows. It was no use to dream of turtle ladies he'd most likely never have. He'd better enjoy the things in life he could have.
Lettuce!
The other day, he'd overheard his mummy's mate talking to another man about planting a new sort of lettuce. Snailslayer Salad, the man had called it. The name sounded interesting. He couldn't wait to taste that new delicacy.
He rounded the corner of the house and at last reached the gravelled court in front of the main entrance. A wide set of limestone stairs led up towards a tall carved oak door. Carl knew nothing about the symbols on the door, except that they always sent cold shivers over his shell, and he hurried as fast as a turtle could hurry to leave the court with the door behind him.
An orange blotch caught his eyes.
Pumpkins!
Carl loved pumpkins. His mummy was kind enough to put freshly harvested pumpkins in the front yard each year as a snack for him on his way to the vegetable garden. It was a long way, and he was a heavy turtle, so his mummy knew he'd need a lot of energy. She even carved funny faces into them to make them more appetising.
As fast as his crooked legs would carry him, he deviated from his course towards the pumpkins and took a huge bite.
If a turtle could roll their eyes in delight, he would do that right now. The pumpkin was delicious! He took another bite, and yet another. Even though his stomach was fitting to his size and extended to his hollow legs, as his mummy loved to say, he had enough after half of the pumpkin.
It was about time to visit the vegetable garden. His appetite would be back by the time he arrived there and he could taste the new lettuce. If his pace was even more sedate than usual, nobody would notice. The gardens were void of any signs of life, except for the obnoxious white birds that seemed to be everywhere.
At last, he reached the walked-in vegetable garden. The small wrinkled creature that cared for the garden had planted the new variety of lettuce in front of a bed with snap peas, near the wall. The bright green leaves with blue veins made a striking contrast to the red brick wall.
The last few yards he moved towards the lettuce in his fastest turtle trot. At last, he reached the row of the new plant and took a large bite of the lettuce closest to him.
An explosion of aromas tickled his palates. This was turtle heaven, this new lettuce held more aromas than anything he had ever tasted. The turtle equivalent of a delighted smile crossed Carl's face, and he took another bite.
A huge one.
And yet another.
He finished two heads of the delicious vegetable in record time and turned towards the third. A low rumble in his stomach was the only warning he got that something was seriously wrong.
The next moment, a blinding pain shot through his body, as if someone had stabbed a knife into his stomach and twisted it. The stabbing pain subsided, only to be replaced by a raging fire in his insides.
Carl opened his mouth in a silent cry. Blood shot out of it and formed a puddle at his feet.
He staggered. His instincts told him he had to get help.
His mummy would know what to do, she always made him feel better the few times he'd been sick in his long turtle life. He put one shaking leg forward.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he crashed to the ground. The pain in his intestines intensified.
Carl opened his mouth in a silent cry for his mummy, only to have another stream of blood gush out of it.
His view blackened.
He welcomed the darkness, it tuned out the pain, although something deep inside of him told him that this was the end.
How unfair, he was a turtle man in his prime, he still had about a hundred summers to live and so many things he wanted to do. Now there would never be little Carls to raid the vegetable garden with him.
Yet he couldn't muster the energy anymore to be angry.
His last thoughts before the endless darkness claimed him went to his mummy, and he sent up a little prayer to whatever turtle deities there were that she wouldn't be the one to find him and that whoever found him broke the news to her gently.
Her life at the big manor would be even more lonesome without him.
t.b.c.