It was a hot summer night. Abigail and Sebastian had enjoyed a little too much mead at the saloon, and were walking along the railroad tracks.
"If I was in any shape to drive, I'd give you a ride on my motorcycle," he said.
"And if you were in any shape to drive, I'd go along with it. But, you know, Rasmodius would be pissed if I ended up splattered all over the highway, he'd have to start all over with a new apprentice…"
"I know, right?" He stopped and faced her. "I have to say, I really admire how seriously you're taking this magic thing. I'm seeing a whole new side of you. I like it."
She looked down and smiled. "Thanks. I love magic, I love the arcane studies." She looked Sebastian in the eyes. "I really feel like I've found my calling, you know? Even learning Arcane Northern Dwarvish and mixing up potions to clean the cauldrons is fascinating to me. I miss Sam, though, I miss jamming with you guys, but I have to study." She stepped forward. "Thanks for stopping by on Saturdays. It means so much to me; I just light up every time you come in...I mean, obviously, part of it is that you have food for me, but…"
The quiet moment was shattered by a strident cackle. Sebastian looked around. Abigail looked up, and saw a green-skinned woman on a broomstick.
"Witch!"
"That's what that was?" Sebastian asked. "I thought the witch was just made up…"
"No, there's actually a witch here." Abigail spoke quickly. "I'll tell you more later, I think we should go to your house. Now."
She tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling him downhill toward his house.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing yet," Abigail whispered, "but I get the feeling that she doesn't like me. And she really doesn't like Rasmodius, so let's just-"
There was a flash of light. Abigail felt a brittle cold, like frostbite from the inside out. She felt pain in her bones and a desolate chill on her skin. She fell to the ground in a heap. She was wet, she was freezing, and despite not moving, she was lost. There was a boulder to her left, and a giant black boot to her right. She tried to stand, but toppled forward on to the boot.
There was another flash of light, followed by a loud croak. The boot disappeared, leaving what appeared to be a frog in its place. Abigail couldn't quite see it; it was blurry, like everything else in her close field of vision.
Abigail felt heat from above. When she looked up, she saw only green. The witch's hand scooped her up. "You're coming with me!"
She saw the frog on the ground clearly for the first time. Was it Sebastian? The witch grabbed that frog by a hind leg and threw it like a frisbee down the mountain. With that, the witch took flight on her broom, right into a mountain cave, with Abigail still in her hand.
The next few minutes were a blur of light and darkness, muffled words and strange sounds, and pain. The cold and the pain colored everything; she felt brittle, she felt throbbing in her bones. She was freezing. She was thirsty. She was starting to believe that she'd been turned into a frog, just like Sebastian.
"Poor thing, you look so dry," the witch said. She set Abigail down on the table. Abigail watched as the witch walked over to a sink and filled a large bowl with water. She dribbled a few drops on Abigail's head. The water was warm. It felt good. "Do you like that, dear?"
Abigail tried to answer. She couldn't make a sound. She tried to nod her head. The closest thing she could do was a push-up.
"Too bad!" The witch knocked the bowl off the table, spilling the water on the floor. "Bastard. You're not getting one ounce of pity from me. I'll just let you dry out here." She placed Abigail in a large glass jar. It was tall; too tall for her to jump out of. The top was open. The witch put the jar on a windowsill and opened the window, exposing Abigail to the cold, drying air. "I could use dessicated frog in a few of my recipes."
Abigail tried to speak again. "Aaah." She could make sounds! If she could make the right sounds, she could do the undoing spell! "Aaah. Daah. Laah." So far, so good. "Aaah daah laah...daah?" No good. She needed a "gooh" sound, and couldn't get her lips to form the right shape.
"Don't get any ideas," the witch said. "Let's dry you out faster." She walked over to the jar with a large bag. The witch poured the contents of the bag into the jar. "There."
Abigail felt a searing pain, pain that she'd never felt before. Her eyes felt like they were on fire. Without thinking, she licked them. It was salt! Abigail slammed her eyes shut, stuffing them down in her head. She stayed still, feeling the burning on her skin, until she couldn't hear the salt being poured anymore.