The Tale of Maybrook

The evening sky over Melifrith's village was an empty blaze of meaningless orange and pointless purple dotted with vacant sprinkles of starlight.

The stablemaster looked up from his donkeys and saw Melifrith's frail form shambling towards him. "I told you to come after dark, Milly," he whispered. "You're in plain sight of you-know-who."

"I didn't see that it mattered," Milly said. She slumped onto her brother. One of the donkeys brayed loudly. She fleetingly felt a dull pain in her heart at the sound of it..

"You're having too much of that tea, Milly," Duncan whispered. "And too often. You're barely upright."

"You have news of Hodwin?" she asked. The dull pain in her chest flared again.

Duncan nodded, looking out into the evening gloom. "Aye, your Hod was still alive and questing, though a surprising distance from here." He searched his sister's face for anything at all. "Does the news not gladden you?"

Milly shook her head. "But for my cruelty, he would be no further than the reach of my arm." A sharp and fierce sadness rose in her belly. It too faded quickly. She breathed out unsteadily through her nose and looked off into the distance.

"He will return to you," Duncan reassured her. "You can take comfort in that."

"I take no comfort in it," Milly replied vacantly. "My heart is surer than any that he will return as I bade him return, brother."

Duncan sighed and kissed his sister on the forehead, embracing her warmly. "These times have tested us all, Milly. Our hearts cannot bear such a cruel weight without faltering."

Milly shook her head. "His was the greatest heart I will ever know, brother." She sighed emptily, dreamily. "Every day I ponder why I sent my love to his foolish doom with a cruel word, and my heart does not answer. It is silent and cold, like the grave." She shook her head.

Duncan sighed, then noticed the town's reeve striding towards them.

"Well well!" Stanhart said. "The widow seeking comfort in the arms of her brother! I hope that's all she seeks!" He cackled.

Duncan averted his gaze. "Say nothing, sister."

Milly ignored him and turned herself around to face the reeve. "Better than the comfort of swine, as your father appears to have done," she said. "How unfortunate your mother did not devour you in her shame."

Stenhart's hand flew across Milly's cheek before she had a chance to blink. Her head snapped to one side. "You tell your sister to mind her tongue, Duncan."

"Melifrith is ill, without strength or reason," Duncan replied. "She pays little heed of anything in this condition." Milly's head flopped forward with a groan.

Stenhart smirked. "Is that so? Perhaps then there's a way for a bed-ridden widow to be earning her keep." He smirked and licked his lips. "It strikes me that with your husband departed and your fields lying fallow, perhaps someone else should get to ploughing and sowing your soil? The ground is still perfectly fertile, after all." He adjusted his trousers and cleared his throat. "If you catch my meaning."

"She is no widow, Stenhart. Her husband yet lives," Duncan seethed. "Say not a word in retort, sister."

Milly ignored her brother again, looking Stenhart in the eyes vacantly and breathing out. Her voice was airy and faint. "You'd struggle to please a rat." She squeaked in imitation of a rat. "Is it in yet, reeve? You're ever so thin."

Stenhart slapped Milly across the face again, much harder, knocking her out of Duncan's arms to the ground. Duncan restrained Stenhart from inflicting any further blows as he spat at Milly's crumpled form.

"Take your hands off me, donkey-boy!" Stenhart growled to his side, then turned to seethe at Milly. "You're not bloody nobles anymore, either of you! Learn your place or I'll have the Beorns see to you!"

Duncan shoved the reeve away, standing in front of his sister. "You have made your point, reeve," he said.

Stenhart seethed. "Do you hear me, widow? If I see you up and about again, you'll soon wish you were dead like your fool of a husband!" He kicked dirt and donkey dung towards her still form.

Milly lay motionless as the filth pattered across her dress.

Duncan looked away. He said nothing, remaining motionless, waiting patiently for Stenhart to leave.

Stenhart socked Duncan across the face with his fist. Duncan didn't respond.

Stenhart smiled. "Silence is golden, you filthy churlings. Remember that." He kicked another cloud of donkey dust towards them and turned back towards the town hall. His enforcers had come out to meet him. He waved them off and started miming exactly how he'd given Duncan and Milly a beating moments before.

"Does he still punch like an old lady, brother?" Milly asked.

"An old lady would at least know to use more of her knuckles," Duncan said, rubbing his beard. "His manner may be despotic but his pugilism is mercifully unaccomplished."

"Lord Edwick cannot intend this for you, brother," Milly observed.

"Lord Edwick is our king, Milly," Duncan said. "We have both wronged him. It is not up for discussion."

Milly paused. "Does your love still write you those silly letters? I've always envied his penmanship."

"I have not received word from Lord Edwick's son in some time," Duncan sighed. "I wish I hadn't told you about them."

"They're quite naughty, aren't they?" Milly replied quickly.

Duncan looked down at his sister. "Why don't you get up off the ground? He's gone."

"I'm trying to accustom myself to the smell of donkey," Milly said. "For when Hod gets back."

Duncan sighed. "You should be in bed, sister."

The airy sadness in Milly's voice returned. "All I've ever loved has become lost to fate." She still felt the anguish in her stomach piercing the calm fog from the tea at the reeve's cruelty. Some pains not even her grandmother's special tea could settle.

Milly felt Duncan's arms haul her weight off the ground and she flopped in his arms, face covered with dirt. "Let's hope he comes to his senses and returns to you before he finds the right witch, sister," Duncan sighed, carrying her home. He hugged her head to his.

"He'll find her," was all she could say. "He'll find her."

"You think you're so clever, you."

The witch took a long drag on her pipe and held her breath, looking sternly at the donkey on the opposite side of her small hut. The evening sounds of the swamp and the sound of the fire in the hearth filled the ensuing silence.

"This is what I remember," she finally said, blowing a curl of orange smoke out of her nose. "You show up here one day, out of the blue. You stay out of my way at first. You chopped the wood, you mucked out the pig pen, you milked the cows, clear out the eggs, make yourself useful. One day I'm about to slaughter the pig, you say no no, let me, and before I know it you've got pork chops and applesauce and all kinds sitting on a plate for me." She shook the mouthpiece of the pipe at the donkey. "You saw that pig's true origin, yet you slaughtered it anyway." She sucked at the mouthpiece again. "I thought perhaps you wanted me to take you as an apprentice. And I would have, if you'd asked."

The donkey's eyes danced in the light of the fire.

The witch continued. "So I let you in here with me. You kept house very well. The filthy floors were swept, yet filthy desks you left untouched because it was as I wished it, even though I didn't need to tell you. The bookshelves were dusted, cauldrons scoured, inkwell and candles always ready for me to work. You led the beasts to their pens as their humanity slipped away, you set the frogs into the lake as their words turned to croaks, all before I realised it needed doing. I didn't even know where you slept for the longest time, only that you were always there when I needed you, day or night."

The witch drew another long breath through the pipe. Embers glowed against her face.

"And then I discovered you were no apprentice in waiting at all, but just the opposite," she smirked, blowing out the smoke. "You were a witch-finder. But not just any witch-finder, oh no. You were a right old sneak about it, you. Making yourself invaluable, getting me used to the sight of you, and all this kindness and charity and sacrifice was all just your ruse, all a years-long attempt to break me and take me off my path. It broke my heart to think I'd let my guard down so completely. The moment I said you'd be sorry for outwitting me, you took that donkey potion from my hand and said: if this how you want me, I must accept it."

The donkey lowered its head in a slow nod.

"You welcomed this rotten curse. You welcomed the kicking and beating and shouting and thrashing without a squeak. I used to think there was nothing of you left until you heeded my words as only a beast with the wit of a man could." The witch shook her head. "And even as a rotten smelly donkey, I couldn't live without you. Braying to announce the arrival of visitors. Saving me from no less than six fires caused by my own silly untidiness. And the bear. And the wolves." She shook her head. "I really hate donkeys so a chivalrous donkey was absolutely galling."

The donkey stared silently, flicking its ears.

"And just this afternoon, thinking I'd like nothing more than to put a strap to your back, I realised it's not because I hate you, which I do, and it's not because I like hitting you, which.. well, it's because you had what you came for. From me you took the one thing people like us value the most in life; you took your purpose." The witch laid her pipe on the windowsill thoughtfully. "You'll never leave, will you? Not until you're dead or I am. That's how it works with your lot, isn't it?"

The donkey nodded.

"So my choices are either to end you where you stand or accept defeat," the witch nodded. She pulled a large circular metal amulet out from under her dress and lay it on her chest. It showed a design of a willow tree made of bones. "I've made up my mind."

The donkey watched the witch pick up a dull ritual knife from her writing desk. She fumbled it and dropped it on the stones.

"Bugger!" she swore loudly. "I was doing so well. Anyway, you win, monk. Well done." She unceremoniously sliced through the leather strap of her necklace, spat on it and tossed it on the fire. "Order of the Dead Willow, I renounce my vows. Here's your amulet back." The amulet flared up in green and blue, then disappeared. "I'm sure my sisters in the order will be along with their bees and fireballs to boot me out formally once they catch wind of all this." She grinned.

The donkey looked on silently.

"So, that's me. But if I know you, you're not going anywhere," the witch smirked. "Your work has just begun. My wickedness won't change any faster than your curse will lift, so we're stuck with one another. At least we have some wiggle room on your curse, monk."

The donkey cocked its head as she stretched her knuckles.

"Right then!" the witch clapped her hands resolutely, still very uncertain. "Let's get wiggling!"

She'd barely begun to reach down towards a dusty old bookshelf when her unfortunate guests at Crooked Swamp Farm began mooing, oinking, clucking, breaking her concentration utterly.

"Oh, you've got to be..."

She stormed outside, pausing by the cow fence. "What?! What is it now?!"

The cows had noticed a small and unsteady light breaking through the evening mist of Crooked Swamp Forest, adjacent to Crooked Swamp which backed onto a small Farm. The witch caught sight of it and groaned.

"Why tonight of all nights.." she sighed. She could picture that weary traveller hobbling along the road that led around the swamp. She could hear the conversation they'd have when he reached her door. She could feel herself reaching for an empiggenating potion, or maybe a chicken for this one, as she called to the doomed soul from across the farm.

Are you lost, traveller.. ?

The witch shook her head. "No more random acts of wickedness, you. No! More!" She tapped her skull twice with a bent knuckle to leave a throbbing pain there.

The light seemed to suddenly fall down and go out. The witch held her breath. Had wolves got them? The light suddenly reappeared with a rustle in the trees and a cough.

"Bastard!" she cursed. She caught herself and took a breath. "Alright. This is easy. Just pretend to be a normal old lady living in a terrifying swamp." She shook her head. "I can't do this without the monk."

The sun was weakening with every passing moment and the light in the forest was getting ever closer.

She glanced through the dusky gloom at her baleful cows, sullen chickens and a particularly morose pig. "I've given up witching. As soon as I can, you're all human again and you're all gone." She paused for a moment, then threw her hands up. "You're welcome, beasts!"

The witch stormed back to the dusty bookshelf past the donkey. "We have a visitor," was all she grunted. The book she slid off the shelf was thick with dust but still smelled the way she remembered it. She read the title aloud. "A Guide to the Unravelling of Malicious Magicks."

The donkey turned its ears towards the witch as she read on.

"I understand this material is offered for informational purposes only. Performing any spells or incantations, or administering any concoctions from the pages of this book will be considered an act of apostasy from the Order of The Dead Willow. Signed the Black Shriek." She looked back at the donkey and held up the book, gesturing to her personal insignia. "Signed in my own blood." She pointed out a scar on her hand. "My fellow apprentices in the order said everyone signed it in blood, but they didn't." She smirked again. "Too afraid of damaging their perfectly delicate little handsies. That's why I was always the Dead Willow's favourite."

The light from the hearthfire danced off the donkey's patient eyes.

"I do hope the Willow understands this whole renunciation thing though. Better the roots survive to grow a stronger tree." The witch sighed and folded the pages over, scanning them quickly. "Let's see... lifting curses and hexes, yes, yes, where's the bit on cursing potions.."

Less than a mile away, Hodwin stumbled through the black, thorny thickets of Crooked Swamp Forest, slashing to and fro with a pointy stick. His quest was nearly at an end, for on the other side of the forest waited the notorious witch, the Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp. Her specialty was turning unexpected visitors into mindless beasts.

Hodwin, as it happened, very much wanted to live out his remaining days as a donkey. Once he was a donkey, he could find his way back to the one he loved and she'd like him just a little bit more than the broken husk of a man hacking weakly through the undergrowth towards Crooked Swamp Farm that evening.

He'd heard from all of her witch associates that she really got into it as well. She was a wicked piece of work, they'd said. He'd even been given exact instructions as to how to antagonise her to the point where she'd specifically change him into a donkey. He didn't care if she transformed him slowly or quickly, or whether she said lots of mean teasing things as he did or just stood there in silence as the change took place.

As long as he ended up a donkey, that was fine by him. Then he could go home again.

The former Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp turned over page after page of the grimoire as the light outside grew dimmer. "I distinctly remember being given a cursebreaking potion in here as punishment after I turned my sister into a chicken for helping herself to my eggs at breakfast. Took months for all the feathers to go away." She clicked her tongue impatiently and flipped pages. "Ah! Found it!" The witch flipped open another book, cross-referencing the ingredients under her breath. "Two of this, one of that, substitute here, run out of wormwood, so green spirits but burn them off a bit first.." She scribbed down notes on a spare scrap of parchment, her quill a flurry of occult calculation. "Right! Let's cook!"

She thrust a gnarled finger behind her towards her cauldron and the fire underneath it sprang to life. Jars and bottles clinked and slid across her potion rack as she read off the ingredients. The spirits poured themselves into a dish as the witch clicked her fingers to keep time. She added powder after oil after herb after tincture this after that, then with a wave of her hand she set the concoction alight. It sparked up in a green fire and sizzled.

"Right! We'll have to let it cool a second, but it should all interface into a nice curse-breaker potion with a little extra kick." She closed her books triumphantly and cocked her head at the smell. "Hm. Minty!"

The donkey nodded silently.

She paused. "But I've started, perhaps I should make another potion anyway, just in case things get.. you know?" she said aloud to herself. "Just in case I--"

The donkey tapped its hoof loudly and shook its head.

"Ugh!" the witch seethed. She felt the two throbbing lumps she'd put on her head. "Old habits may die hard, but die they must." She flexed her fingers nervously, then put her hands behind her back and stepped away from her workbench. "This is going to be difficult." She fanned the donkey's potion with her hand to cool it. A rainbow-coloured cloud rose and fell in the dish.

The donkey nudged her under her elbow.

The witch sighed and leaned on the donkey's neck, a little sad. Then suddenly: "Look, I'm going to make a potion whether I choose to or not, but I'll make sure it's not the kind of potion I'd normally make when guests are arriving." She sighed. "I'll make something I haven't made before. That'll keep me occupied. Ooh. I'll make that forbidden potion! Yes!" She rubbed her hands together gleefully.

The donkey lifted its head curiously.

The witch turned to the back of the Guide to the Unravelling Malicious Magicks and turned backward through the blank pages. "I'm not meant to have this! I even hid it with invisible ink and deliberately lost a dare because it was so absolutely secret." She waved her hand across a blank page and revealed a potion recipe. She smiled in reminiscence. "Had to do everyone's homework for three weeks as well! That's probably the only reason they even got to be witches at all."

The donkey nodded.

The witch grinned brightly. "With this potion, some moonlight and a silver scrying dish, we can peer into the dreams and memories of whoever we like and see the truth in their heart. That's why it's called the Window to the Heart, and that's why I'm not meant to have it." She set the book across from her workbench, then hesitated. She screwed up her face. "Powdered dragon scale. Of course."

The donkey stepped back to let the witch dash over to a box in the corner of the room. She crouched over it and sorted through a series of pearlescent grey rocks. The witch swatted a mosquito from her face with a hiss, then resumed picking up and testing the weight of the dragon scales.

"I can eyeball this bit, no trouble." She ran back to the workbench with a scale in hand, then dropped it into her mortar and started grinding away at it furiously. "Come on! Powder up, you silly lizard pimples!" The witch gestured across the room, and every candle sprang to life with a flame.

Hodwin hacked and slashed through the bracken and branches as the sun set below the hills. A breeze whipped up off the nearby bog and filled the cooling air with rot and the smell of mosquitoes. Only someone truly evil could bear this place, Hodwin thought. Or someone who really liked mosquitoes. So perhaps some kind of frog.

He saw a glow of light piercing the gloom. He stopped in his tracks and swallowed hard. There she was.

The witch had eyeballed wrong. The dragon scale made twice as much powder as she needed. She tipped half of the contents of the mortar into her smaller cauldron and grimaced. "It'd be a shame if this goes to waste," she said to herself. "It's only good for another hour or two at most." She looked out the window. The light was growing closer.

Freshly pulverised dragon scale could make a very strong metamorphosis potion as well, she thought. The ingredients for dragon scale metamorphosis potion ran through her head teasingly. Her eyes found each ingredient on the shelf. There's still enough time. Perhaps she'd just set it aside and--

The donkey tapped its hoof again.

The witch blinked. "Sorry! Ugh!" She went to throw the remaining contents of the mortar into the hearth in frustration. She hesitated.

The donkey cocked its head as she took the mortar back to the donkey's potion and nodded. "You'll have to be strong enough for both of us, Fluvius." She said a brief incantation then twisted a generous pinch of the powder into the donkey's potion. "This should put some extra meat on your bones and strength in your heart."

The donkey nodded.

She smiled and threw a handful of the scale powder towards the hearth. It crackled and turned the flame deep blue and violet. She squealed with delight. "Now that's a proper witch's fire, eh?" She let forth a joyful cackling laugh that echoed around the room and out into the night.

Hodwin had frozen at the sound of the witch's cruel cackle and the sight of unholy fire flickering across the fog. He grinned broadly and quickened his pace. Soon he'd be on all fours, losing his humanity to arcane devilish powers, and ready to rejoin his beloved. The sooner, the better. He missed her terribly, but she'd made her terms quite clear.

The witch wandered out into her front yard. "Right, you lot." The animals turned towards the sound of distant hacking and slashing and grunting growing nearer in the thick of the night. "Normally I can't stand to listen to you, but whichever one of you makes the most despairing horrible gruesome noises gets to be human again first. Put that fool off!" She dashed back inside and slammed the door behind her, then set to work again with furious focus. The sound of baleful oinking, lowing, clucking and bleating echoed through the night.

The witch looked up at the bleating and furrowed her brow in puzzlement. "I don't remember turning anyone into a goat," she shrugged. "Maybe it's just a normal goat joining in. Should have kept a logbook or something." She stirred the ingredients of the Window to the Heart potion with a wooden spoon and smelled it. "Minty again. How strange." She looked at the surface of the potion, checked her potion recipe, and nodded. "Glossy purple with a yellow iridescence. Excellent." She tested the heat of the donkey's potion. "And yours is ready, monk."

The donkey stepped towards her as she ladled the potion into a bowl. She kneeled down and held the bowl up to the donkey's lips. "Fluvius. I release you from your donkey curse." She cleared her throat. "Hurry up, come on."

The donkey lowered its lips into the bowl. It slurped the potion quietly and humbly.

The witch held out a handful of numbwort. "Chew this. Breaking a curse hurts like hell. This might help. Or it might not."

The donkey nibbled the numbwort as the frogs in the swamp nearby suddenly went silent. There was a splash. The witch and donkey both looked out the window to see swirls of fireflies avoiding a particular spot in the swamp.

"Now pop yourself down by the hearth. It shouldn't be long." She fetched his old monks robe from the cupboard and threw it over him. The donkey crouched down and moaned quietly. She put her hand on the donkey's chest and sighed.

"I wonder how long it'll take the order to show up to perform the rite of apostasy," she sniffed. "Not that they ever dropped in to say hello anyway." She bowed her head as the donkey moaned again. "Be brave, Fluvius. I need you."

Hodwin's energy picked up as he shook the swampy water out of his shoes. He'd survived the bog trap and finally come to the edge of the witch's small farm. Ears of corn turned to look at him unnervingly.

He stopped at the gate. There were cows and pigs and other animals baying in terror. He could almost make out human words. "Go! Flee this place!"

Hodwin stole forward unsteadily. An owl hooted loudly from a nearby tree, staring into his soul, then flew away towards the roof of house.

"Thank you, Cedric," the witch said. She'd seen their visitor clearly for the first time through the owl's eyes. Long hair, wispy beard, not exactly soldierly. More of a guardsman. Or a peasant pretending to be a guardsman. A wobbly sickly peasantly guardsman. It didn't matter. She'd know what he was about soon enough.

The donkey suddenly grunted and groaned under the blanket. The witch slumped beside the writhing form and sighed, stroking his side. "Groan all you like, monk. I'm making myself listen." She could already feel his muscles and bones start to shift and creak through the fabric of his robe.

Hodwin vaulted the fence and crouched in the witch's front yard. He looked left at baleful cows, and looked right to see something horrific in the gloom that his brain couldn't put together. He blinked and looked again. It was just a pig.

This was the place, he thought. He rapped on the door with his sword. "Open up!"

"Not - now!" a furious elderly female voice shouted from inside.

"I seek to challenge the Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp!" Hodwin shouted.

The voice hollered back, "She's busy! I mean.. she's not here! Go away!"

"You'll not outwit me so easily, Brown Streak!" Hodwin shouted.

The witch opened the front door a crack, a heavy club in her hand. "What did you just call me, fool?" she seethed.

"Haha! Only a fool would turn up to a witch's house and make her name sound like poo!" Hodwin summoned his last skerricks of strength for the purpose of barbed provocation. "Only a fool would.. put metal in her affairs.." Hodwin wondered if he'd used the right word when a loud roar of pain came from inside, followed by the slimy crack of metamorphosing flesh and bone. Both the witch and Hodwin looked towards the source of the sound.

"For the second time, go away!" she snarled.

Another loud groan rang from the hut, accompanied by more wet snaps and the sound of something heavy hitting the stones. Hodwin tried to look past the witch. The witch blocked Hodwin's view and narrowed the door.

Hodwin drew his pointy stick from a rusty scabbard. "I will not go away! I have travelled--"

"I don't care if you swam here from Atlantis using your manhood as a propeller! Buzz off!" the witch bellowed, slamming and locking the door.

Hodwin swayed at the rush of air from the door's slamming. He'd come so far. He couldn't give up now. He simply had to aggravate her sufficiently or he'd never be a donkey.

"Come out? Please?" he asked.

The witch dashed hearthside towards the source of the pained noises and pulled the blanket off. She found a half-man, half-thing still in the throes of painful metamorphosis. Hooves were creaking back into fingers. Shoulders were pulling away from the body and a human chest was taking shape. Hips cracked and spread ready to bear his enormous weight on two legs. Muscles were growing, spines stretching,

The creature's eyes were screwed up tight. She could see tears blinking out of them between long eyelashes.

The witch clasped one of the creature's enormous new hands in both of hers and squeezed. "You're almost done, Fluvius." The hearth lit up the shapes of solid muscles covered in a short, thick layer of hair. "I put in too much dragon scale. My fault."

The creature panted and groaned. His heavy head flopped to one side and he opened his eyes. They had whites again. Nostrils at the end of his long muzzle flared with pain and tension. His panting lost its bestial roughness and softened to something more refined. More human.

The witch gently, tentatively patted the creature's firm, broad chest. "Are you alright, Fluvius?"

"I believe so," the creature replied in a deep and sonorous voice. He looked at his hands and body. "What am I?"

"You're not a donkey anymore," the witch explained. "I said I had wiggle room, so I brought you back as far as I could towards being a man, then.. sort of.. switched the donkey part for a horse." She shrugged. "I much prefer horses."

The creature flicked his ears as he examined himself, then smiled and bowed. "Thank you." He flexed a set of muscles toned by ten years of hard labour and a pinch of dragon scale powder. "How long before the curse lifts fully?"

The witch's jaw had dropped open. She closed it with a click of her teeth. "I don't know, monk. It just takes time."

"Then it takes time," Fluvius said with a warm smile. "You really do prefer horses."

The witch giggled back nervously, heart leaping out of her chest. "Oh yes, in fact it was a horse--"

The front door of the house was suddenly being stabbed.

"Will you kindly stop!" the witch bellowed.

"Face me in combat please, Brown Streak!" the frail voice came from outside. "I think I'm about to pass out!"

The witch shoved the blanket into the creature's chest. "Cover yourself, Fluvius. You're quite distracting."

The creature beamed. "As you wish." He pulled the blanket around his waist. It still had his monastic shield embroidered on it from when he arrived here all that time ago. He tied it around his middle and settled down on his broad rump. "What's the plan?"

"I'm going to give that little sot what for," the witch said, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing her club. "If I'm not allowed to change him into a frog I'm allowed to bruise him in self-defense."

"Or you could ask him what he wants," Fluvius suggested.

The witch hesitated and nodded. "Alright. You're the expert."

"And be kind to him," Fluvius added. "He seems a little tired. And slow."

The witch flung open the door to find Hodwin's pointy stick wedged firmly into it. Hodwin was checking his fingers for splinters.

"I'm sorry," the witch said with a strained smile. She leaned against the doorway. "My attention is yours, visitor. Let's start again. You are?"

"I'm.. I'm.. what kind of animals do you have at your farm, please?" Hodwin asked.

The witch's brow furrowed in confusion. "You can see them for yourself, good visitor." The witch's strained smile grew more strained. She swept her hand and the pointy stick flew into the bog. She continued to put on an unconvincing air of politeness and held her hand up. "There's two cows over yonder. They managed to hit me with a couple of arrows before they ended up like that. Now they're cows. But soon they get to be people again. Won't that be lovely for them?"

Hodwin blinked. "What?! You're going to change them back?"

"Yes." The witch sighed impatiently. "Did you notice a pig? He was once a mighty warrior. Now he's all.. filthy and... oinky." She screwed up her face and shook her head. "But soon, he'll be human again too."

Hodwin went for broke. "But what about.. d-do-.. do--" he stammered, starting to lose consciousness.

"Dogs? Oh, no. I have an owl. And a d- oh, before I forget!" The witch disappeared, then returned with a bottle of cloudy liquid with a sudden pride. "Could you tell me if this cider is any good? It's my first try."

"C-cider?" Hodwin stammered. "I didn't come here for cider! I came to face the Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp! What's wrong with you?!"

The witch corked the bottle. "I'm not the Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp anymore, shouty boy! I'm trying to be nice now! What's wrong with you!?" She'd lost the will to be polite. "Why are you even here?!"

"To test you in combat!" Hodwin replied, putting his hand to his empty scabbard. "Wait, where's my stick gone?"

"You couldn't test a fart from a dead cat in your condition, you wobbly goon!" the witch mocked.

"Perhaps I will test your wit, then!" Hodwin chuckled with his best impression bravado. "I heard you weren't even that good! All the other witches say your tongue was too clumsy for spells so all you can do is potions!"

The witch held her hand up to silence him. "For one, I am easily the best potion-maker for seven kingdoms, assuming Ysgrifr of the North hasn't blown himself up yet, in which case I'm far and away number one." she said sternly. "And for two, the witches who told you to say that aren't worth their weight in wood and their spells are even worse than mine are." She folded her arms and looked at her guest. "The fact that they passed you onto me should say everything it needs to, even to someone in your state."

"Oh." Hodwin wobbled back and forth on his legs unsteadily, apparently not in his own mind for a few moments. "Sorry. I'm Hodwin."

"You're forgiven, Hodwin." The witch uncorked the cider bottle and held it out to one side. "Fluvius, fetch a bowl."

"Yes, mistress," came a terrible voice. Heavy clopping footsteps appeared and inhuman hairy hands presented a stack of small bowls, held carefully.

Hodwin suddenly came to again. "Who's Fluvius?"

The witch smiled to herself. "He's the only reason I don't have an extra frog for my swamp right now."

"But I don't want to be a frog," Hodwin began woozily. The creature belonging to the hands put its head around the doorway. It was a mockery of nature - part man, part draught horse, dressed in shabby monks robes. A monstrous sight.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," said the horse-man, bowing his head gently.

"Nnnh!" Hodwin squeaked at the sight of him.

"Please," the witch said, pouring a bowl of cider for each of them to drink. "I've no idea how you're even standing up right now but I don't want you dying on me because I don't want any stupid shouty ghosts in my swamp."

Hodwin couldn't stop staring at the horse-man. "Nhhh!" He pointed. "Nhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

Fluvius brought the cup down to their strange guest and presented it to him with care and grace. "Please tell us why you're here." He regarded their strange visitor with kind eyes. "We want to help." He lifted the cup to the stranger's lips.

"Love has led me to this place," the fool said mysteriously, transfixed by the horse-man. He reached out and touched the horse's snout with a grin. "Did you know your face is all horsey?"

"I am not a horse," Fluvius replied.

"What do you mean, love?" the witch asked, stepping down from the threshold. "What kind of love leads you to a place like this?"

"I want to be a donkey," the fool smiled, a thousand miles away.

The witch gasped. "You came all this way to be turned into a donkey!?" She shook her head. "Not on your life."

Fluvius concurred. "I was a donkey for many years. It really wasn't any good."

"But you could, couldn't you?" the fool cried weakly with joy, standing up. "Please!"

"Yes! I mean, no! I'm not doing it!" the witch said, throwing her hands up. "I'm done with all that! My mind's made up!"

The fool's strength appeared to be failing him. He stood up too fast. "But I.. my.. sh--ulp!" The cider repeated on him and he threw it back up, then he fell onto all fours and spluttered. He gasped and strained as the cider got the better of him.

The witch took a very unladylike swig of cider from the bottle. "What's your name again? I'm terrible with names."

"Hodwin," coughed the curious visitor. "Trust me, I'd be happier as a donkey! Just.. less wretched enough to know happiness again, but only if I'm a silly donkey! Please! I've come so far!" The fool finally gave up and collapsed in a heap on the ground. He threw off his shabby armour in an infantile sulk and buried his face in his forearm, sobbing. "Please! It's for love! I don't know what else to do! I'm not that clever!"

"You can say that again," the witch folded her arms at the display. She looked at Fluvius and shook her head. "In your own time, Fluvius." She went back inside and slammed the cider bottle on her desk in frustration.

Fluvius consoled the sobbing mass of blubbering with pats on the back and gentle strokes of his hair. "Shh. Take your time, Hodwin."

"You remind me of my old horse," Hodwin snivelled. "He was lovely too."

"I'm not a horse," Fluvius repeated.

The witch put herself down at her workbench and thudded her head against the wood. Then again for good measure. "Damnit."

"What are you doing?" Fluvius asked.

She lifted her forehead up from the wood with a grunt. "Any night before this one, he'd already be a frog by now and I could get on with my evening in peace." She sighed and lifted up her head. "Promise me you won't take off and leave me to it, Fluvius. I can't do this on my own."

Fluvius nodded. "My vow is sacred and binding, Grusehild." Hodwin had begun crying into Fluvius's shoulder, stroking his long mane for comfort.

She suddenly stomped her foot at the sound of her name. "I've been trying to remember my old name all evening so I can start using it again." She paused. "I suppose you know I used to go by Hildy."

"Of course," the horse-man smiled. "If I didn't know everything about you, what kind of witch-finder would I be?"

"Never had a chance, did I?" Hildy slumped, deep in thought. The horse smiled and didn't answer her. She stood up and paced to and fro, thinking to herself. "Could I not just do as he asks? I mean, it's a pretty cut and dry request, isn't it?" Hodwin's sobbing was calming. She looked sadly at the pathetic heap beyond the threshold clinging to the horse creature like a crying child clinging to its mother. "It's harder to deal with people when you're not just turning them into animals, isn't it?"

"It's not much harder, Hildy," Fluvius said. "Let's practise."

The witch blinked and looked up. "Oh, wait a moment!" She walked back to her cauldron and picked up the Window to the Heart potion. "Let's cheat instead. Where's that scrying dish..."

Hodwin wiped the tears from his eyes to see the witch holding out a metal cup. The horse-creature held a flat ceremonial plate.

"Drink this, Hodwin," the witch said. "Dont worry, it's not cider."

Hodwin wiped his snotty teary face on his shirt sleeve. "Is it a magic potion?" he asked pathetically.

"Yes," the witch said. "It will--"

"Good." Hodwin gulped it down greedily and, to his surprise, instantly hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Hildy blinked as their visitor snored on the ground.

"Should he have drunk the potion so fast?" Fluvius asked.

"Probably not." She waved her hand over the scrying dish in Fluvius's hands. Fluvius gazed in wonder as images and muffled sounds formed on the surface of the swirling water. It was a series of angry, annoyed women, and people from a village, and more annoyed women.

"Well, there they are," Hildy said. She recognised the faces of old friends from old covens, all tending farms out of the way as was their custom. "Get a good look at them. You'll see them in the flesh soon enough."

Fluvius didn't answer. The fool was dreaming of home now. There was a curious lack of horses in his town. It was all donkeys. Were they that poor?

Hildy had opened up the traveller's satchel. She pulled out a horse's tail. "Why on earth does he have that gruesome old thing? Oh, hello..." She replaced the tail and pulled out a map. "This is every witch in this and the next two kingdoms." She blinked. "I'm not on it, though. Must have just got lucky."

"Oh, someone like you can be found easily enough," Fluvius concurred.

"And now you're some sort of horse creature, so I'd call that a draw." Hildy thought aloud. "I don't want him on my conscience, Flu. I don't want to abandon him to his fate, but I don't want to have to feed him, bathe him, groom him, saddle him, bridle him or even look at him."

"Also, being a donkey is no good," the horse-monk added.

"You convince him, then." She squinted at the scrying dish again as the vision suddenly flared. "This must be a powerful memory." An angry woman appeared that Hildy didn't recognise. "Is this your sister, Hodwin?"

"Wife.. Milly.. zzzz..."

"She must be the smart one." Hildy squinted. "What's she doing married to a grubby peasant? She's nobility."

"Milly said.. she'd a rather.. donkey.. for husband.. than.. frail weakling.. had to.. find you.."

"She certainly scolds people like a noble," Hildy remarked. "That's a very strange thing to say to someone though."

"I'm not sure she actually meant that literally," Fluvius said.

"Literally.. ?" Hodwin asked.

Fluvius sighed. "Never mind. When did she tell you this?" Fluvius offered.

"Too sick.. to work.. fields.. lay fallow.." Hodwin moaned.

He saw Hodwin bedridden for many weeks, his wife tending to him but growing more frustrated and despairing. He watched Hod summon up his strength, look back at his wife, and amble out of his village. "He's very sick. Perhaps a sickness in his blood."

"Hold up his finger," Hildy said. She pricked it with a needle, drew out some blood and sucked it into her mouth. "Hmm. He's very weak." She rolled her tongue around in her mouth and spat onto the ground. "Two more hours and he'd be food for the crows."

"What's wrong with him?" Fluvius asked, kicking dirt over the spittle.

"He's stricken with all sorts of blood rot and as weak as a baby. Seems to me like he's running on nothing but stubbornness!" Hildy said. "I'll whip up a curative and a revitalising potion for him. That should sort him out." She pottered back inside with a whistle. "Haven't made either in a while, he might grow one or two whiskers afterwards. Can't make any promises." She set to work pounding dried aromatic herbs in her mortar. "Shouldn't be more than three whiskers, four at most. He can just clip them off. They shouldn't grow back."

The fool murmured on. "Maybrook.." he said with a faint smile.

Fluvius watched memories of Hodwin receiving a draught horse from his father as he left home, leading the horse through the fields, meeting his wife as he grazed the horse, the three of them doing the ploughing and harvesting, enjoying apples fresh from the tree. There was a quiet, simple pastoral joy in all of it. Fluvius smiled. "Happier times, eh?"

Hodwin's eyes blinked full of tears. "But Stenhart.. oh Maybrook.."

Fluvius watched a horse being led out of the village. Another horse being led out of the village. Nobody stopping them. "Who's this fellow? What's he doing?"

Hodwin sighed. "Town reeve... Stenhart.. takes.. horses.. took Maybrook.." He started to sob.

Fluvius cocked his head. "Show me, Hod." Fluvius looked into the scrying dish to see Hodwin's own horse being led away by Stenhart, with the rest of the town holding him back and two heavies taking turns beating him.

Hodwin sniffed. "Maybrook.. gone.. " The sobbing grew louder and the scrying dish clouded over with grief.

"No more tears, Hodwin," Fluvius said. "Your friend will always be with you in your heart." Fluvius shook his head at Hod and Melifrith's pathetic attempts to plough and sew their field without the horse, and the illness, and the hurtful arguments they had afterwards, all with that rotten reeve sneering and laughing at their anguish. "It can't be easy."

"Who's this Maybrook he's going on about, then?" Hildy said, mashing away at her mortar. "I thought he said his wife's name was Milly or something."

Hodwin sighed sadly at his wife's name. "Milly.. I found her.."

"His draught horse Maybrook was taken away by their town's reeve, and it ruined them," Fluvius said. He pulled the dried tail out of the satchel. "I'm guessing this is what's left of Maybrook now."

"Oh!" Hildy gasped. "How horrid! And wasteful! And brutish! I'm sure I was never that bad even at my worst. Was I?" She stopped mashing. "I might have been." She shook her head to rid herself of the thought and continued mashing. "I don't like this reeve fellow at all. Was it a lovely horse?"

"It was a very lovely horse," Fluvius nodded. He paused a moment. "Perhaps they might like their horse back."

"Well, I'm neither a stud farmer nor a necromancer," Hildy said. She sniffed the contents of the mortar. "Minty again? Where is all this mint coming from?" she boggled.

"You're perfectly capable of giving them their horse back," Fluvius smiled. "You have everything you need."

"What?" Hildy slammed the pestle down on the workbench. "Fluvius, make up your mind! There's only one way for someone like me to give them their horse back and I just renounced it! You were there!" She walked back to Fluvius and watched Hodwin's memories for himself. She saw fields of wheat. "He's a grain farmer. Bet they've got their hands full with rats in that place."

Fluvius grinned. "More than one kind, it seems."

"Is this that rotten horse-stealing reeve?" Hildy noticed a stablemaster handing over a horse to the reeve. "Nobles tending donkeys and this rotten common fellow lording it over them." She smiled resolutely and shook her head. "I'm annoyingly fascinated by all this."

"So you'll help him?" Fluvius smiled.

"S'pose. Oi, Hodwin! Wake up." She clicked his fingers around his head. "Hodwin, if I sent you back as a donkey you'd have wasted a lot of time and a perfectly good pointy stick." She slapped him across the cheeks lightly a few times. "Wake up, boy!"

The scrying dish suddenly went dark and silent. Hodwin's wet eyes opened groggily. "Milly was.. right about you.." The corners of his lips turned up.

Hildy smiled. "Why don't we pop inside by the fire and have a chat about Milly and Maybrook and your whole situation." She picked a couple of hairs off the horse's tail and checked them against the moonlight.

"Do I get to be a donkey?" Hodwin asked as Fluvius lifted him up on his shoulder.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Hildy grumbled.

Milly lay in bed, looking at the ceiling of her shabby home as the light of dawn peeked through the window. She turned and felt the crunch of straw, then heard footsteps approaching.

"Go away, Duncan," she moaned.

"Are you ready to work today?" Duncan asked. "Or is the straw of your bed not warm and flat enough yet?"

She sighed. "I dreamt about Hodwin again. I dreamt he had arrived safely at Crooked Swamp."

"What's Crooked Swamp?" Duncan asked.

"It's where the Black Shriek dwells, a powerful and cruel witch, and there she turns men into beasts," Milly sighed. "It was a strange dream. I recall Hodwin being overjoyed, and the Black Shriek treating him with immense kindness."

"Kindness? A witch?" Duncan chuckled. "That does sound like a fanciful dream."

Milly continued. "And as the dream ended, she turned to me and said all would be well upon Hodwin's return, and he'd meet me in the grazing field a week from now." She looked up at Duncan. "As I awoke, I heard the sound of horses."

Duncan shook his head. "No horses here, sister. None dare after.. well.. none dare anymore." He looked over at the stove. "Is this our grandmother's brew of bestillment?"

"Yes," Milly said. "Bring it here. It should be cooled."

"I shouldn't let you have this," Duncan said.

"But you shall," Milly said. "Either that or I devise some other mischief to pass the time until Hodwin comes back to us. I was wondering what the town hall would look like clad with dungy straw."

"I hear you." Duncan shook his head with a smile and poured the brew into a cup for his sister. "You believe your dream to be a foresight, sister?"

Milly smiled. "Grandmother had them. Why shouldn't I?"

Hodwin awoke in the gloom of the dawn by the swamp, out the front of the bracken. He was being carried in the arms of the horse-creature with the witch leading them, waving the bracken and bush aside. They were almost back at the crossroads.

"Good morning," Fluvius said in a deep voice. He grunted and gently lowered Hodwin onto the ground. "Walk from here. It will clear your head."

Hodwin found his footing and walked with the horse's hand between his shoulders, steadying him as he wobbled along. He had a happy feeling in the depths of his bones that hadn't been there when he passed out. He hadn't felt the slightest bit of happiness for months. Finally they came to the clearing with the dawn rising above the trees at the far end.

"Hodwin," the witch said, addressing him with an eerie majesty. "It's time for you to return to your village. It is almost harvest time and there's work to be done."

Hodwin lowered his head. "I understand."

The witch held up her hand. "I've expertly attended to your ailment with utmost care as you slept, Hodwin. I also give you the means to cure yourself." She gestured to a cart with a body harness tied to the front.

"What is this?" Hodwin blinked.

"It's the cart you asked for," the witch smiled. "You were so keen to be a donkey, but you don't like pulling carts?"

"Does pulling the cart turn me a donkey?" Hodwin asked.

The witch rolled her eyes, dropping any pretense of regality and mystique. "No, it won't. Look, we worked it all out last night but then you said it would be better if you didn't remember anything so it could be a surprise for both of you. You said to mention apples."

"Oh," Hodwin shrugged. "I don't remember any of that. Or the apples."

"Yes, you don't remember because I gave you a potion to make you forget," the witch grumbled. "Look, what I can tell you is that you had a nasty little blood sickness and all sorts of little bites and stings. I've fixed you up as best I can."

"Oh," Hodwin said. "I don't remember any of that either."

The witch continued. "The longer you walk, the more you'll recover. Here." She shoved a waterskin into his hands. "If you get hungry or thirsty or sleepy or sore on your way home, drink this. You've got a solid week of walking day and night before you reach home, and by the time you get there you'll be absolutely fighting fit again from the effort of pulling this cart behind you." Fluvius held up the harness and shook it.

"What's in the cart?" Hodwin said, stepping into the harness.

"Just some bottles of cider for your town. Oh, and a lantern to keep you safe as you travel. I'm not sure if it works on bears but everything else should leave you alone." The witch beamed. "It's actually sort of my first time being not absolutely horrible to someone who's come to visit, so.. er.. yes."

Hodwin sighed. "But no donkey?"

The witch stomped her foot in frustration. "For pity's sake! I'm granting you health and livelihood, Hodwin! Self-respect! Even solutions to your most pressing problems and terrible troubles, including but not limited to the situation with your beloved! She'll be more than pleased to see you fit and well again. You said so yourself. You also said you have to get back to her because your fields will have lain fallow all season, so stop your lollygagging." She put a pendant around his neck. "And this is your gift for Milly. You swore me to secrecy but we all agreed it was very lovely of you. Don't drop it."

"But what is it?" Hodwin said, holding it up.

"Just give it to her and you'll find out!" She handed him a small leather satchel. "And here's some correspondence for your town as well. Don't lose any of that either. Make sure it is read." She stood back. "A safe journey to you, young Hodwin."

Hodwin nodded. He took a sip from the waterskin. Suddenly his head cleared, his aches disappeared and his strength returned. He stepped forward and the cart came with him easily. He smiled. "Gosh. I hope this lasts the whole way home."

"You'll have a bit left to spare if you don't gulp it," the witch smiled. "Farewell!" Fluvius held up his hand and waved.

Hodwin smiled at the both of them and waved. "Thank you!" He'd remember Fluvius's mysterious little smile all the way home.

Fluvius's pointy ears flicked in the cool autumn evening air. "Do you think our visitor made it home?"

Grusehild shrugged. "Oh, probably." She picked another apple and tossed it into the basket. "I'm sure he's fine. Bugger, I wish I'd remembered to ask him about the cider." She screwed up her face. "I shouldn't have given him the forgetting potion."

"It's done. How do you feel about it?" Fluvius said. He felt an apple land hard on his chest and bounce into the basket.

"Bothered," Hildy remarked. "I wish I could see it. It's not really enough to just know it could happen."

They heard the bellows of a cow from a little ways away, and a by now familiar shlorping cracking sound. Then the gasping and shouting. Then, a few minutes later, a naked muddy fellow walking up to them, trying to protect his modesty.

Hildy squinted. "Fargood, wasn't it?"

The muddy fellow nodded.

"Apple?" Hildy asked, holding one up.

The muddy fellow blinked and nodded.

"Use your words, Fargood. You're not a cow anymore," the witch said.

"Th-thank you," Fargood said, holding out a hand with his fingers pressed together.

"Those are hands, Fargood, not hooves."

Fargood whimpered and forced his fingers apart. He wiggled them and looked like he was going to cry with joy. "Fingers! I remember.. fingers!" He looked between his legs. "And--"

"Yes, yes, you're a boy again," the witch said. She picked an apple out of the basket and put it in his hand. "Go put your clothes on and practise eating like a human again."

"Thank you! Thank you!" Fargood cried. "Fingers! Toes! Joy! Praise be!"

A goat suddenly appeared from behind the house and began chasing Fargood with loud bleats. Fargood yelled with fright and changed course away from the charging ruminant.

"Who is that goat, exactly?" Hildy asked, mystified.

"I think it's just an ordinary goat," Fluvius said.

Hildy nodded. "I think he's fine as is."

Hodwin had walked for a solid week, sunset after sunrise, night after day, and as the witch had promised his strength and stamina had returned to him greater than ever. As he jogged through the forest, the strange trees had become more familiar and the hills had grown closer to his memories of home. Bewildered villages had shouted out to him in voices closer to his own kin. And finally he'd come over a crest and seen his own village surrounded by fields of wheat grain.

The only thing that worried him was whether his beloved would disapprove of his disobedience with respect to him not being a braying ass, but he'd made up his mind to trust the witch's judgement there.

He used to dread the sight of ripened grain. Now it looked beautiful. He laughed and broke into a sprint, the harness barely able to hold onto him.

Hodwin stopped suddenly by the junction that led off to the old grazing field. He saw fresh tracks in the ground. He recognised them instantly and smiled.

"Is anybody home?" a frail voice shouted. "I've become lost!"

Fluvius looked up from his woodcutting with a wave to see a young man with a walking stick. "Good morning to you, traveller."

The young man froze in his tracks. "Oh no. I have heard grim tales of a swamp filled with cows and horses. Have I come the home of the dreaded Black Shriek?"

"Do not be afraid," Fluvius smiled. "This is that swamp, though the witch is no more. I am Fluvius, the monk. Who are you?"

"I am Small William, I keep.. uh.. my town's goats," the young man shivered. "I lost a goat by these woods months ago and seek him out at the behest of my lord. Have you seen it?"

Fluvius laughed. "Hildy, the keeper of the goat wishes to have it back," he called towards the inn.

"Tell him we'll trade for it!" Hildy shouted. "We like the goat!"

Fluvius nodded. "We do like the goat very much."

"Alas, I can not sell you this goat," William sighed. "That goat is not truly a goat. It is my older brother, Big William. He is in hiding from my lord. I come to bring him back."

"Ah," Fluvius said. "Hildy, the goat is another run-away!"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Hildy groaned loudly. There was clanging and clinking and thumping from inside the inn, and Hildy soon appeared from the doorway with a handful of potions and frying pan in hand. "Just for once I'd like to meet a beast that has always been a beast." She tapped the frying pan. "Come on, goat. Time for your medicine!" She sighed and looked around. "Come on, you mean old thing!"

"I have a cure to make him drink," Small William said, unpocketing a waterskin.

"Won't need it," Hildy said, shaking a tiny bottle. She banged the pan louder. "How did he come to be a goat, exactly?"

"We wanted to beseech the Black Shriek but we could not find her. It took five witches and all our gold to shift his shape," Small William said. "He was so full of their potion he pissed for days afterwards."

She looked at the marks on Small William's waterskin and grinned. "Bet it took them at least a week to ready your potion too."

"A month," Small William said. "They said the moon had to be right."

"What rot!" Hildy laughed. "That's the oldest stalling tactic in the book. Bet they didn't know what they were doing."

The goat reappeared from around the cider shed, took one look at his brother, then shot away at a run. Hildy waved her hand and the goat fell over stiffly. It bleated in protest.

"That's him," Small William said.

"Fluvius, be a dear and fetch some cloth for this one's clothes," Hildy said. She crouched over the goat and screwed up her face. "Oh, now, look at this, he's all bits and pieces. His hooves are different shapes, his horns are all over the place, ugh." She grumbled. "Not only rotten craftsmanship, but I missed out on some gold. And making someone into a goat. Goats are brilliant fun." She forced open the goat's mouth and poured the potion in, much to its protest. "Back you come."

Small William's face drained of all its blood as the goat popped and stretched back into Big William with bleats and grunts. "So you are the Black Shriek?"

Hildy cleared her throat. "I've renounced that name and those wicked ways." She looked down and smacked Big William over his head. "That's for your naughty behaviour."

"Sorry," Big William moped. He looked up pleadingly at his brother. "Spare me this doom, brother. I would rather be a goat than be wed to Gertrude the Black!"

"Doom, eh? What doom is he in for?" Hildy grinned. "I love a good doom." She handed the brothers a vial each. "To restore your strength."

"He is betrothed to a great and fearsome woman," Small William shivered. "Some say she is a bear taken woman's shape. All fear her wrath, her men most of all."

Big William groaned. "I ask you not to send me to my young death. I beg you. She means to kill me for taking flight as a goat on our wedding day. She has killed for less."

"Indeed?" Fluvius said, returning with cloth and thread. "That sounds very grave."

"And nobody will stand up to her, not even your lord?" Hildy said.

"None have the strength," Big William said. "I am doomed, brother."

"But what if you had the strength?" Fluvius said. "What would you do?"

"She has the strength of a bear," Small William said. "Yet no bear has the wit to best her. We have seen it."

"What about two bears?" Hildy grinned at Fluvius. "What do you think, Flu?"

Fluvius didn't look up from his sewing. "Go and make your potion, Hildy." He snorted a mosquito out of his horsey nostril.

"Milly!"

"Hod?" Melifrith said, looking up to see her husband walking through the overgrown grass towards her.

"It's me!" Hod laughed, walking towards her through the thick grass. "Look! I'm all better!" He crouched in front of Milly and smiled. The wagon creaked. "Are you alright?"

Milly said with complete neutrality, "I thought I'd never see you again, Hodwin."

"Of course you were going to see me again!" Hod smiled, unharnessing himself. "I was always going to come back."

"I thought you were going to come back a donkey," Milly said, a vacant expression on her face. "Because I sent you away and said those things about you coming back as a donkey."

"So you didn't mean it? You're not angry."

Milly looked off to one side. "I fear I meant that with all my heart at the time. If I could feel shame, I'd be feeling some right now."

Hod blinked. "Oh. You did mean it." He looked down. "I hope you're not cross with me for this, Milly. Why can't you feel shame?"

"I've been taking calmative tea to ease my anguish since you left. I don't feel much of anything now." Melifrith held up her hand and felt Hodwin's chest. "You're well again, husband. Your skin is practically aglow."

Hod smiled as Milly stroked his cheek. "Glowing with love for you."

Milly blinked. "If I could feel anything right now, it would be joy. I hope this brings you some comfort." She looked at his arms. "Your scars are healed, you walk as though your legs were never once broken. If I could feel amazement--"

Hod suddenly embraced Milly and kissed her. A few sweet drops of the restorative potion touched Milly's lips.

Hodwin broke the kiss and looked at Milly's eyes. "Is that better?"

Milly wiped her mouth. "How long have you travelled?"

"About a week?" Hodwin supposed.

"I knew it!" Milly pounced on top of her husband and kissed him back hungrily, hugging him close to her and laughing through tears. "And you found Crooked Swamp!"

Hod smiled. "I did! She was really nice!"

"I saw you with her in a foresight!" Milly laughed. "Oh, how I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Milly," Hodwin smiled. "Oh! I have a gift for you. The witch said that we all had a chat about how to solve our problems and then.. well.. I asked her to make me forget it all so it would be a surprise. I think it involved apples."

"Apples?!" Milly laughed. "Why would you have her make you forget a gift?"

"Oh, and I remember thinking to myself that you'd love this more than anything in the world," Hodwin smiled, taking the pendant from around his neck and smiling. "Also there's this."

"A pendant?" Melifrith asked, all smiles and curiosity. "Is this the gift? Just a pendant?"

Hodwin grinned. "Maybe! It's quite a nice pendant."

Melifrith put the necklace around her throat and tied it. Her face suddenly registered shock, and then delight. "Oh Hodwin, this is beyond belief! I can feel your heart beat from afar." She put her hand on his chest and laughed. "Truly it is your heart! What is this wonderful giddy feeling that's come over me?"

"It is how I feel whenever I'm near you," Hodwin smiled. "It sings when I see you smile. It aches when you cry. It does a lot of things." He grinned. "This is how I feel. I wanted you to feel it too."

"I feel it all," Milly smiled. She touched the pendant tenderly. "You gave me the song in your heart, husband. Thank you." She sniffled.

The two of them suddenly felt something else. "Oh," he blinked. "I think there's more."

"There's a lot more," Milly blinked. She put her lips to her mouth. "Oh Hodwin. You didn't. How could you even think up such a thing?" She gasped and laughed, lost for words, shaking her head.

Hodwin's memory stirred. "Is this the bit with the apples, Milly?"

Melifrith's delighted smile gave nothing away. She looked at him as though she was ready to behold some kind of wonderful miracle.

Hodwin smiled. "Maybe that I would return to your side as the one you once adored? And apples?"

"And you have," Milly beamed. "Shall I show you?"

Hodwin nodded. "I'd love you to." His heart suddenly began racing even faster, feeling like it was going to leap out of his chest. Hodwin dizzily dropped to the ground on all fours. He drew in a long breath and looked up at his wife with elation and confusion as his entire body became a shivering creaking rumble of activity. "What could I have given you to make me feel so odd?"

Milly kneeled before him in the grass and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Maybrook. You've brought him back to us."

Hodwin's whole being lit up with a wave of delight and recognition. "Of course! He really liked apples.. oh goodness!"

The skin at the back of Hod's neck suddenly bulged out from between his shoulderblades with a ticklish squeeze. He felt a tension at the base of his skull and rolled his head upward, surprised to feel it turning at top of his neck with pleasant little pops and creaks. The tips of ears stretched gently outwards from his head, followed by a shivering wonderful feeling in his earlobes. He planted his hands in the soft grass. His wrists filled with the gentle force and he felt the flesh and bones of his hands guided away from his forearms. Hod felt a cramp in his back. He arched up his front and stretched out his shoulder blades to find them rolling downwards into his ribs.

Hod's face was a big, horsey-toothed smile of delight. "I get to be a horse!?"

"Yes!" Melifrith giggled. "Though you look perfectly peculiar this moment!" She reached out and ran a finger along his ears, giggling with delight as they flicked. "It'd say it rather suits you!" She ran a finger along the rim of them tenderly as they took their place atop his skull. "What sweet ears you have."

Milly's affection washed across him in a wave of tingling skin as he rose up on his knees with a gasp. "Ulp!" The gasp pulled in an impossibly large volume of air which swelled his chest. Milly rose up with him and clutching her head to his chest with delight. With every ecstatic gasp, his chest deepened into a muscled barrel. As he breathed out, he felt his nostrils and mouth push away and expand with the hot rush of air. He stretched his neck back as far as it would go, rolling his head towards the sky and willing it to grow out to its full length. On the ground, his human arms either side of Milly's body stretched out into solid forelegs on either side of his ribcage. Coarse white hair drew out of his skin, meeting Milly's soft cheek. He embraced Milly tenderly while his fingers drew out and fused into a broad hoof. He felt her fingers stroking his ticklish snout, making him snort in air through large fleshy nostrils. A long flat tongue poked out of his mouth.

"Maybrook's head is huge!" Hod said.

Melifrith leaned back and squealed with delight. She cupped Hod's face with her arms and kissed the bridge of his nose, then took his hooves tenderly in her hands. "And look, Hodwin!" She clopped them together playfully and giggled. "You have big silly hooves!" She rubbed her cheek against them and smiled. "I didn't realise they were were so warm." Long hair was already sprouting from around his former hands, covering the tops of his hooves and ticking Milly to her delight. Another wave of pleasure started at the crown of his head and followed his spine down down to his shoulders. He felt something light and fluffy against the hide of his neck. Melifrith gasped and ran her fingers through his mane. She smiled and hugged the horse's head, pressing her forehead to his. "Oh Hodwin." She smiled a little impishly, then whispered in his ear. "You're getting quite handsome."

Hod panted. "Was I not handsome before?" he gasped with laughter. He felt the energy start to rise again and tensions forming in his back. He twinged. "Ah. Getting cramps. Need to stretch." He wriggled his shoulders.

Melifrith giggled and rolled out of his way. She stroked his head tenderly. "Silly horsie."

"Where is your sister, Duncan? She's away from her bed!"

Duncan didn't look up from mucking out the stables. "I tend only to donkeys, Stenhart, not women."

"Shall I have you hang a bell around her neck like the foolish cow she is?" Stenhart seethed.

Duncan smiled to himself at the thought of Milly at Stenhart's window in the middle of the night, mooing and clanging the bell in her hand. "Indeed."

"Heed me now, if she is fool enough to show herself here again she will soon wish herself as dead as her horse!" Stenhart ranted.

Hodwin anchored his front hooves firmly in the grass with his rump pointed upwards. "Lots of stretching. Ulp." Deep inside his body, he could feel his stomach stretching outwards and his hindgut squirming and rearranging along its length. He grunted loudly at the sensation of his lower back arching and pushing back along his spine, and wiggled his rear end in the air to ease it along to his wife's amusement. The growing shifting squirming feeling from his insides had reached the very end of his gut and started to hit a tender spot between his buttocks. He felt a whinny escape as he felt his spine pushing out of his body and stretching something sensitive.

Melifrith giggled. "You made a horse noise, Hodwin!"

"Oh goodness!" Hod gasped. "I didn't mean it, it just came out!"

A horse's whinny echoed up into the village and across to the stables. Duncan suddenly stood up from his shovelling in worry. "Quiet, you foolish beast," he hissed under his breath.

"Well well! It seems at least one of my wishes has been answered!" Stenhart laughed. "It gladdens me greatly to hear that today."

Duncan tried to run interference. "Hear what, reeve? I heard only a loud rat. It comes by often to befoul my stables." Duncan screwed up his eyes as the stupid horse whinnied again, even louder. He pitied the peasant who'd just traded their meagre savings away for nothing.

Hodwin finished a long happy whinny. "Did you like it?"

"It makes me very happy to hear it." Milly laughed. "You sound very sweet!"

Hodwin smiled, wide-eyed. "I do?"

Another wave of ecstasy flowed through down his spine, stretching his tail and his buttocks to their utmost. He spread his knees wide on the grass and his belly and thighs pulsed with heavy wonderful feelings which worked their way inward and towards his tail. With a sudden instinctive arch of his back, his hips began to turn on the base of his spine, pointing his thighs forwards into a squat. His rump pushed into the air as he felt powerful thigh muscles stretch his thickening hide. He bowed his head down with a squeaky grunt as his tail swished back and forth behind him, growing long fine hair.

Hod dropped his tail between his legs and crossed them with a shy giggle. "You love to tease me."

Milly giggled and felt the bashfulness in his heart. "This can't be avoided if you're to be a proper horse, my sweet-hearted stallion."

"Ulp!" With a sudden squirming and a swelling, Hodwin suddenly found his new tail insufficient to cover anything.

"Ha!" Stenhart rubbed his hands together as the horse whinnied again, this time very loudly. "I can settle much of what I owe with a good horse to sell." He swaggered back in the direction of the town hall. "This is a merry day."

Duncan knew well that Stenhart didn't believe the story about the rat, but he kept on with it anyway. "I hear no horse, only that screeching and scurrying rat just now," he apologised.

Stenhart pivoted mid-swagger and leered. "Stay where you are until I have taken this horse away with me, else the Beorns will see to you."

"I shall plant my feet and will that leaves sprout from my ankles," Duncan nodded. He waited for Stenhart to reach the town hall then called out to him: "Stenhart, the squeaking has stilled! I hear your horse loudly now!"

Stenhart slammed the front door of the town hall behind him.

Duncan sighed. "I truly hope that horse is not yours, my foolish sister."

Hodwin wriggled his rear end and felt the weight of his new bodyparts jiggle about. "Bouncy!"

She patted his mane. "Behave yourself or I'm changing you back."

Hodwin giggled. "As you wish." He lifted his feet off the ground and stretched his feet into broad hooves one by one, then he felt himself getting larger and larger in shivery spurts of growth. The waves of sensation ebbed and settled into a warm glow.

Milly giggled. "That seems to be all there is, Hodwin." She felt a growing excitement in his heart and giggled.

"Oh wow!" The horse let his rump sink to the ground with a thud and sat leaning on his front hooves with his back legs splayed out either side. His tail flopped in the grass. "I'm a horse!"

"You sit like a monstrous dog," Millie giggled, standing in front of her husband. "Up you get, horse."

Hodwin nodded, shuffling and wiggling forward on his front hooves. He pushed up on his front, then shakily raised his hindquarters off the ground with another big push.

"Now you're a horse!" Melifrith clapped. "Oh Hodwin! Look at you! It's so silly!"

"It's unbelievable," the big draught horse laughed. He lowered his giant head for a hug and felt his wife running her hands through his mane tenderly. "I'm so big." He looked around at himself and laughed. "And I have a real horse's tail!" His back half shuffled around with excitement. "I'm a horse!"

Melifrith took his face in her hands and gave him a big kiss on his snout. "And you're the sweetest horse a girl could hope for." She ruffled his mane and felt his heart leap with joy at her touch. She walked backwards a few paces to look at Hod and smiled, shaking her head.

The sun broke through the clouds and a ray of sunlight found the meadow where they stood. They both looked up and around, then at one another. Their eyes met and they shared an understanding quietness. Nothing more needed to be said than smiles.

"You like me better as a horse though," Hod finally said. "I can feel it." He flicked his tail teasingly.

Milly smiled bashfully. "I missed our old Maybrook dreadfully, it's true." She shook her head and laughed incredulously. "And now I have the both of you back. You know my heart too well, Hod. I'm so happy my heart could burst!"

The horse swished his tail and beamed. "Then let's just be happy from now on! We've got a lot of happiness to catch up on, I'd say! And ploughing! I'm a horse! I can help with that!" He smiled, suddenly bounding with excitement. "We'll go straight there after we take care of the other bits." Hod trotted over to the cart, then reversed himself towards it awkwardly. "Harness me back up!"

Milly smiled. "I'm actually looking forward to working the land. I must be mad."

"Is it because I'm a horse?" Hod smiled.

"Yes," Milly laughed, picking up the satchel. "What are these 'other bits'?"

"It frustrates me, Flu," Hildy said, waving the two brothers away. "I send these people back into the world and I never hear a peep back. Has it worked out? Has it all gone wrong? I'm none the wiser. It's a bother to me."

"You could leave the swamp and set up along a highway," Fluvius complained. "At least there would be less things biting the inside of my nose there." He snorted.

"Didn't things bite your nose when you were a donkey?" Hildy teased.

"No, never," Fluvius replied curtly. "Why don't we go somewhere else?"

"Not yet, Flu." Hildy shook her head. "It's not the right time to make a move yet. There's still some things left to come our way. My old order, for one." She patted the horse-man on the shoulder. "How are those flowers going, by the way? Is that potion doing anything?"

"Yes and no," Fluvius grumbled. "No because the flowers look the same, yes because it's attracting many bees. I have mosquito bites in one nostril and bee stings in the other."

"What? Show me," Hildy said. Fluvius's nostril was covered in little red bites. "Oh Flu, you're being savaged! Whyever didn't you tell me? Is this why you've been so grumpy lately?"

"Yes," the monk-horse pouted.

"I'll make an ointment to soothe it," Hildy said, leading the horse into the inn and sitting him down on her stool. "I'm well past the point of enjoying seeing you suffer, my friend." She ruffled the horse-man's mane.

"I am not a horse!" Fluvius grumped, swatting her hand away and flicking his mane out of his eyes.

"Sorry!" Hildy chuckled. She busied herself mashing herbs and roots in her mortar. "I quite enjoy you being a little grumpy, but grumpiness ought to be fun." Hildy scooped up a glob of pig lard and plopped in with the mashed herbs, then swirled it around. "Honestly Flu, if there's anything you need, don't suffer in silence. Please ask me. Please."

Fluvius looked back at Hildy. He found a look of hopeful benevolence on her face. "I'm not going to go any easier on you just for being nice to me."

Hildy grinned and went back to mashing the mixture and pig fat together. "I wouldn't expect you to, Fluvius." She chuckled to herself and kept mashing and stirring and mixing. "I'm a tricky old thing, after all."

Fluvius let himself smile despite the discomfort of his itching. Finally he asked, "Can you braid my hair? I don't know how."

Hildy stopped stirring the ointment and smiled broadly. "I'll make you look positively dashing, Flu!" She laughed. "Now hold your breath and stay still. Give it a moment to do its work."

Fluvius found Hildy's fingers smearing a cool salve around his thick lips and nostrils. The itches and throbbing of his skin instantly cooled as though the ointment contained a soothing, healing ice. He rolled his eyes up into his skull and moaned quietly.

"Does that feel better?" Hildy said. "Moan once for yes."

"Mmmmmm," Fluvius said.

Hildy grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "See? I'm not just a rotten old pain in your arse after all." She noticed more bites in Fluvius's body and shook her head. "We are going to need a lot more ointment, aren't we?" She wandered back to her workbench and resumed pounding and stirring.

Fluvius opened his eyes after a minute or two of silently listening to the sound of pounding, mashing and swirling. He looked down at his foot-hooves and sighed. "Hildy, how much longer will this curse stay on me?"

Hildy smiled. "You said you're getting bitten by mosquitoes all of a sudden?"

Fluvius groaned. "Yes."

"Never as a donkey, and only recently like this," Hildy said. She stepped in front of him with an ointment-filled bowl and dipped her fingers into the mixture. "When's the last time those mosquitoes bothered you like this, Flu?"

"Before you ch--" Fluvius stopped. He looked at Hildy with surprise.

The former witch nodded and smiled. "Before I changed you." She dabbed it a bite on his cheek. "Look up and let me see the bites on your throat."

Fluvius slumped and looked at the ceiling. "So becoming a man again also means I get bitten to death again." He sighed. "I can not win." He moaned again at the cool ointment working its soothing iciness into the skin of his throat.

Hildy smiled, rubbing the ointment into the bites around his shoulders and neck. "Now ask me to make a potion for you, Flu. Oops, already did!" She put a small bottle into his hand. "Have a little nip of this once a day until the bottle's empty. That'll protect you from all sorts of nasties."

Fluvius noticed the bottle had an F embossed into the glass. "Like what?"

"Oh, the usual," Hildy grinned. "Mosquitoes, bees, snakes, stinging nettles... oh and hail, lightning, fireballs... now where's that comb I made for you... ah!"

"You already made a comb too?" Fluvius chuckled. He felt the teeth of a wooden comb running along his scalp and inhaled sharply through his gloriously un-itchy nostrils. Hildy's hand pulled and turned his long mane, teasing the knots and burrs out of it skillfully.

"Haven't done this in a while," Hildy smiled, combing herself a few separate locks of hair. "Now, let's see. Is it right over left or left over right to start..."

Milly and Hodwin reached the hill crest that marked the border of the town. Lines of shabby houses rose into view, with the town hall gleaming majestically dead ahead of them. They saw Hod's cousin running towards them, flagging them down.

"What ails you, Redmond?"

"Stenhart heard your new horse and means to take him, Milly," Redmond replied. "He's on the warpath for you as well for being out of bed. I've an aunt in the next village over--"

"Why's he on the warpath, Milly?" Hod asked, looking concerned. "Why were you in bed?"

"Oh, it's you, Hod!" Redmond gasped. "Why are you a horse though? Weren't you meant to be a donkey?"

"Milly prefers horses," Hod said. "I'm a horse!"

Red blinked. "Why'd you tell him to turn himself into a donkey when you prefer horses, Milly?"

Milly shot both of them a stern look. "Where is the rat now?"

"In his hole as ever," Red said.

"Let's not keep everyone waiting, then," Milly said.

"Waiting for what?" Red asked.

"Fetch Duncan and have him meet me at the town hall," Milly said, handing him the letter from the witch. "Tell him to hurry." She cut the harnesses from the cart and led Hodwin forward to the town hall.

"This is exciting!" Hodwin said. "I've never been in a revolt before!"

Milly stormed towards the town hall and hammered on the door with her fist. "Stenhart! Rise from your hole if you dare, rat!" Milly returned to Hod's side to see the Beorns flanking their master.

"Well met, Milly," Stenhart said. He noticed the horse harnessed to the cart behind her. "You bring me a gift."

Hod lowered his eyes to Stenhart and glared.

"I have my horse back, rat," Milly said, stroking Hod's mane calmly. "Is this not odd to you?"

"A horse is a horse," Stenhart smirked. "I pay no mind to this or that." He strolled up to Milly and smiled. "You're looking hale again, woman."

She responded by spitting in his face.

"Have you forgotten what happened the last time your spit found my brow, Milly?" Stenhart said. "Should I remind you?" He called the Beorns over. "Let's have her watch this time. I'm off to sharpen the knife. There'll be other horses soon enough." He disappeared back into the town hall.

Each Beorn took one of Milly's arms each and held her to the spot. She didn't struggle.

Milly suddenly felt each Beorn knocked forward hard. She looked around to see Hodwin's rear end facing her and a hoofprint in the back of each of the Beorn's heads.

Hodwin grinned. "I'm a horse!" He looked down at the Beorns. "I don't think they'll be getting back up again though. I'm rather a strong horse."

"Milly!" Duncan said, running over. "What is going on?" He looked down at the Beorns. "What happened to them?" He gestured over to the horse. "Where did that horse come from? Where's Hodwin?"

"Did Redmond give you no letter?" Milly asked.

"Oh, the letter," Duncan said. "I hid it away in case you found it."

Milly blinked. "It's not from your beloved prince, brother."

Duncan nodded. "Indeed? Then I will fetch it now."

Stenhart returned at that moment with a long, sharp knife and a cruel look in his eye. "Now then..." The look was suddenly flushed out at the sight of the Beorns lying dead on the ground with Milly and Duncan standing by.

Duncan hesitated. "Should I wait a moment, sister?"

Milly smirked. "Leave us. The rat doesn't even have the backbone to scratch me."

Duncan shook his head in disbelief and ran for the stables.

"All this time you've been too afraid to spill noble blood for all the gold you would owe," Milly sneered. "Bruises and beatings and unkind words, yes, but never blood. I wonder if today is the day the rat finally bites."

Stenhart trembled at the sight of the Beorns lying on the ground. "What have you done to my boys?"

"I did nothing," Milly said. "My horse saw to them."

Hod glared and whinnied again.

Stenhart growled. "In that case, I'll sell him for the gold you owe me."

Milly held out the witch's letter to him. "Read this first."

Stenhart snatched the letter and read it. He smirked. "I'm in no mood for games." He threw the letter to the ground, grabbed Hodwin's mane and walked the horse away from Milly.

"Now unhand him, rat!" Milly said.

The effect on Stenhart was sudden and electric. He froze where he stood. Suddenly he began to tremble. Small lumps ran around under the fabric of his clothes. He let forth a wail.

"This is fascinating." Milly poked at the little things running around the reeve's and shirt. "Although quite unslightly." Milly squealed as a lumps ran along one of Stenhart's arms. "An infestation! How horrid!"

"What have you done?!" Stenhart cried. He recoiled and whimpered at another lump running around under the skin of his arm.

Duncan returned at a sprint, wielding a ratting club. "What's all this wailing?" He looked at Stenhart. "What ails you, reeve?"

"He does not listen to reason," Milly said. "He also has a letter." She gestured to the reeve's mail lying on the ground.

Duncan fetched the letter from the ground and shook his head. "There was no helping you, you fool." He opened his letter, then stepped forward. "Good folk of Chaffswich! I call you now for glad tidings! Bring the rat-catcher!"

The peasants of the village were already gathered to see the strange scene. Duncan counted heads and nodded.

"Good folk of Chaffswich. Our township has come to the attention of a mighty witch." There were shudders. Duncan held his hand up. "Though she's crossed out witch and written cider maker. She but only a few small things she takes mind of in this township, which I will tell you now. Firstly, and greatest of all..." - he blinked, reading on blankly - "...she would like us to try the cider that Hod brought home with him. She says it's not too enchanted although, she really just wants to know if she's onto something or not." He shook his head in confusion. "Does anyone volunteer to try the witch's cider?"

The town drunkard had already downed his second bottle. "Too bloody swampy!" he hiccupped. "Also, the tartness is overpowering the sweetness and it has an unpleasant astringent aftertaste." He hiccupped again. "Also I've a powerful hunger for mosquitoes and flies." He held a thumb down on a webbed green hand. "It's a no from me."

"Too swampy, too tart, bad aftertaste, turns people into frogs," Duncan nodded. "Understood. Thank you, Wart. Hopefully she won't be too disappointed."

"I'm honest but fair!" Wart croaked back.

"Someone pour the rest of the cider out before anyone gets any froggier," Duncan said. "Going on. Secondly, one of our townsfolk has been enchanted into a horse. This should not concern anyone else except his wife, who has the power to turn him back and forth at her will."

"Lucky girl!" one of the older women shouted out. Everyone laughed.

Duncan held his hand up, gesturing towards Hod. "So everyone, this is Hodwin. He's a horse now, but sometimes he might not be a horse depending on Melifrith. Something like that. I don't know."

"I'm a horse!" Hod explained as Milly rubbed Hod's neck.

"That's Hodwin?!" Stenhart cried.

"Quiet your infernal squeaking, rat!" Duncan bellowed, turning towards Stenhart. He strode towards him with all the fury he'd had to bottle up since he arrived. "The next matter concerns your doom!"

Stenhart went to reply, but he found to his horror he could only make a rat's squeak in response. The townsfolk recoiled.

"At last, your true voice!" Milly mocked.

Strange scurrying little lumps had begun appearing at the reeve's throat. A scaly brown tail flicked from between his teeth and disappeared. Duncan peered into Stenhart's mouth and saw beady eyes staring back at him from the darkness. He held up the letter he was reading and tapped the tip of the club at the passage where he'd stopped. Stenhart squeaked loudly with fright and shook his head in terror.

Duncan resumed reading, very fired up. "To our mighty friend's third and final point of business. She wishes to help with our vermin problem, although there may be work for us to do." Duncan held up his ratting club. "Fetch your tools, my good folk. You shall need them."

The townsfolk silently withdrew to arme themselves with ratting clubs and whatever other things they could lay their hands on. They returned in short order, an army ready for battle.

"This is going to get extremely messy," Duncan murmured to Milly as he walked to the front of the crowd. He held his club aloft.

"As I was saying," Duncan said, wandering back towards Stenhart. "In the event the pestilence among us chooses greed over mercy, should self-interest prevails over self-preservation, should they be too bloody foolish to realise what's coming to them even as it addresses them in plain language, to wit--" - he snatched the letter out of Stenhart's hand and read it - "Lay a finger on that horse and by my oath you will become a great writhing sack of vermin where you stand, with love from the Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp" - he shook his head - "--if this is not enough to stir their hearts, she hopes you won't mind seeing to all the rats."

With a sudden loud squeak, Stenhart instantly disintegrated into a pile of confused rats that scattered in panic.

"Rats!" went the reflexive cry of the villagers.

"Rats!" shouted of the rat-catcher, and the rat-pile found themselves beset by a horde of terriers and townsfolks with sticks and heavy boots. A symphony of crunching, cracking, barking, shouting and squealing followed in short order.

Duncan cringed and cleared his throat. "Keep at it, people! Remember what the rat took from you! Drive his filth back into the earth!"

Milly and Hod smiled from across the way at Duncan's encouragement. "He's much more fun like this, all shouty and pointy," Hod said. "He'd make a good earl!"

"He was rather good at it," Milly smiled, folding her arms.

"We should ask the king if he can be an earl!" Hod said. "Right after we do the ploughing and stuff!"

Milly sighed to herself and patted Hod's cheek. "Let's get to it then, horse."

"Sister!" Duncan said, jogging over. "The last part of the letter concerns the two of you. It's an invitation to stop by and pay your witch.. I mean.. cider maker a visit as time permits. Apparently Hodwin knows the way."

"Do I?" Hodwin thought about it. "Ooh! I do know the way! I'm a horse!"

"We're off to the work our field, brother," Milly said. "Enjoy the great rat-stomping."

"Raaaaaats!!" the rat-catcher yelled in glee, stomping and crunching and cackling as Milly led Hodwin down the road to the fields.

"I wonder if there's going to be lots of rats in the harvest festival," Hod wondered aloud. "Oh, Duncan, can I borrow the stables for a second?"

Duncan blinked. "Whyever for?"

Hod crossed his legs and bounced. "Call of nature."

Fluvius looked into the swamp and threw a stone. The stone plopped into the brackish water. He ran his hands along his braided mane and smiled.

"Stop scaring the frogs, Flu," Hildy shouted from inside. "We need them to eat the mosquitos!"

"Now instead of them biting me I seem to be constantly swallowing them!" Fluvius complained. "How did you stand it out here?"

"I kept busy," Hildy said. "I can do what I do anywhere, really, as long as there's peace and quiet. I took this swamp for my home precisely because it was out of the way."

Fluvius grouched. "It's a terible place for a terrible person!" He smiled despite himself.

Hildy laughed. "It suited me very well at the time! You're free to leave whenever you like, you know." She teased, "I'm sure I'll behave myself with you gone. Never mind those vows of yours, just toddle off."

Fluvius smiled. "Before I go, tell me: are witches still highly flammable? I'm asking for a friend."

Hildy guffawed so loudly and for so long that she began snorting.

Fluvius felt a pressure building in his nose, and his long face popped back into a more human shape. He smiled quietly to himself with suddenly much smaller teeth. "She's definitely going to notice this one."

He heard a rustle from the bracken in the Crooked Swamp Forest.

"Hail, Black Shriek!" a woman's voice called. "We come to perform the Rite of Apostasy!"

"Hildy, your friends are here," Fluvius said, getting off his backside and dusting it off. "Finally."

"You know they're here to kill me, don't you?" Hildy caled from the inn. "That's the punishment for apostasy."

"Will they kill me too?" Fluvius said.

"They'll probably try," Hildy said.

A fireball flew from the forest towards Fluvius and hit him in the chest like a soft pillow. He coughed and brushed the fire off. "I think they're trying."

"Meet your doom, Black Shriek!" came another voice. "The death of a hundred stings comes now!"

A swarm of bees suddenly appeared from nowhere. The bees swarmed back in the direction of the forest and there were suddenly screams and fireballs and other strange phenomena as the witches tried to rid themselves of the mischievous bees.

"They're putting on quite a show," Fluvius said, swatting away another fireball. "You should come out and see this."

"Oh, I've seen all this," Hildy said. "Are they doing the thing with the bees?"

"They are!" Fluvius said.

"Good. That'll be the Grim Howl of Broken Tree then," Hildy said. "She could never get the bees right. Doesn't stop her. Are all eight of them here?"

Fluvius watched eight black-clad women squealing and swatting their hands around, fleeing towards the inn from the swarm and coughing.

"I et a bee!" one of the witches complained.

"We all et bees!" another chided her.

"Yes, it's all eight of them," Fluvius called back to Hildy.

"Looks like everyone's broken their vows then," Hildy said under her breath, finally appearing from the doorway of the inn. "Welcome, former sisters. Nice to see you."

"A pox on you, Black Shriek!" one of the witches said, not sure whether to aim a fireball at the bees or the apostate. "A big horrid pox with lots of boils!"

"Only if they're talking boils that tell rude jokes," Hildy laughed. She barely waved her hand and the bees disappeared into thin air. "I see you're still a little unclear about certain rules of the order, showing up all at once." She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "One remains behind? Ringing any bells?"

"Hold your lying tongue, Brown Streak!" The Dead Breath sneered. "You expect to break your vows and--"

"You sorry stupid hags are all that remains of the Order of the Dead Willow! You were entrusted with that responsibiilty!" Hildy snarled. "I might have renounced the Order but I kept my vows to the very moment I did, including the one where the order never travels as one lest the Willow's curse befall them. One witch always remains behind to continue the line, just to be safe. Abide by this or else you join the Willow!"

"No calamity befalls us before!" the Dark Screech said.

"I was the one remaining behind, you harebrained wonk! And if I've renounced my vows, and it's just the eight of you, the Dead Willow's curse is logically very upon you!" Hildy said. "Why do you think she sent you to me? To say hello?"

"We are eight against two!" the Putrid Gurgle sneered. "No calamity will befall us here!"

"Eight against one," Hildy said. She cocked her head towards Fluvius. "This one doesn't know any magic. Roasts a good pig though. Oh, let's just get on with this. Go on, into the semicircle."

The witches looked at one another, muttering in confusion, then nodded and formed themselves into a semicircle around Hildy.

"You don't even remember the Rite of Apostasy," Hildy said, watching them unsheathe their ritual knives. She sighed. "Any last words, you silly wooden bitches?"

The Burning Chill smirked. "Now, you d-- wugh!"

Fluvius jumped back as the semicircle of witches suddenly turned into a grove of skinny trees with grey bark. The ritual knives clattered to the ground. Each tree had a circular amulet buried in it with an image of a bony willow.

"And that's what happens when you don't follow the rules," Hildy said, picking up one of the ritual knives and making the tip of it grow brightly. "Dead Willow, your daughter's vows are broken, they are punished in the proper way and so your line ends here. Sorry about that, love!" She went to touch the knife to the first amulet, then turned to Fluvius. "Did you want to do the honours, Flu? This is a witch-finder's job."

"Of course," Fluvius said. He looked up. "Ghost of the Dead Willow, I release your mortal bindings to the wind. Go in peace from here."

Fluvius took the knife and hesitated. Hildy nodded. He nodded and touched the tip of the knife to each amulet. Each flared green and blue, then burnt away to a cinder. At the last amulet's flaring, and a long pale shriek echoed around the grove.

"What was that?" Fluvius blinked.

"That was the Dead Willow herself," Hildy smiled. "You've vanquished us all, so off she goes to wherever. I think you're allowed to call yourself the Dead Willow's Bane now."

"But what did I do?" Fluvius said. "I didn't turn them into trees."

"You did, sort of," Hildy smiled. "That stuff I've had you putting on the flowers all spring was concentrated tree change potion. I knew Grim Howl would try to do the stupid thing with the bees. Had to give the Dead Willow what she wanted or she'd have been a right grump about it. I'm sure she appreciated that sweet little speech of yours too. No word of banishing or evil, very kind."

"I never thought I'd get to say those words," Fluvius said. He smiled to himself. "Thank you, Hildy."

"Don't mention it," Hildy grinned, picked up a ritual knife of her own. "You know, Flu, I've always wanted to try my hand at woodworking."

"Oh, I come from a family of woodworkers," Fluvius smiled. "I could teach you a few things. What kind of wood is this? I don't know it." He felt the bark of the tree carefully.

"Witchwillow." She tapped the wood of one of her former sisters. "I think I'd like to carve a happy little horse out of this one."

Fluvius looked up at the trees and chuckled. "I'll get the axe," he said, walking off to the woodshed. "Maybe I'll put a new seat on the outhouse too."

Hildy ran her fingers along the bark and heard the protests and shrieks of her sisters. She sighed. "Flu, I didn't enjoy this one as much as I thought I would."

"I see that," Fluvius said. "Does that mean I can start packing up your things now?"

Hildy smiled. "How long do you think it would take to make some nice wooden chests out of this lot?" She smiled at the horse-man and blinked with surprise. "Oh, is your face a bit shorter?"

Fluvius grinned without replying, bringing his axe up to take a swing at the first witchwood tree.

"What town is this?" King Edwick asked from atop his horse.

"It is unclear, your majesty," his thane replied, walking up alongside him. "The maps clearly show a different town and there is no signage anywhere with its name."

"How vexing," the king said with a scowl. "I shall discuss the matter with the town head." His expression suddenly changed from a scowl to a big grin. "Oh look! A festival! How jolly!"

The king's entourage rode through the streets to the festival where the Chaffswich Harvest Festival was in full swing. There were people in wicker rat heads and wicker horse heads dancing around a bonfire and the sound of drums. The festivities immediately died down as the king's footman played a horn.

"Subjects! Your king is amongst you!"

Everyone turned to see the king, then fell to one knee reverently.

The king waved benevolently. "Well met, merry subjects. Is your town reeve amongst you?"

Duncan ran to the king's side, pulled a ceremonial horse head off his shoulders and bowed. "Your majesty."

The king blinked. "I recognise you. You're an earl, aren't you?"

"I regret not, your highness," Duncan replied.

"Oh?" the king said. "Perhaps I have mistaken you for someone else, although I don't think so."

"That is to say, your highness, I fell out of your highness's favour and your highness saw fit to dispel my earlhood."

"Oh?" the king said, trying to remember. Duncan braced himself for when the king's memory finally clicked. "Oh! It's you, you wicked little shit!" The king dismounted his horse with both boots on the ground. "Of course I remember you, Duncan the Despoiler!" he bellowed.

Duncan winced. "Your majesty's presence honours us."

"Shut up! I specifically remember sending you to tend horses in a miserable rotten rat-infested hovel full of lazy wasteful indolent rat-bitten peasants," the king growled. "And here I see you frolicking around a completely different village with a novelty horse head."

Duncan winced. "The town to which your highness exiled me is Chaffswich, and Chaffswich is where your majesty stands."

"There was no sign!"

"We were about to put up the new sign when you arrived, your highness," Duncan said. "Fetch the town's sign for the king!" He threw his iron keyring towards another peasant boy. "Julius, the velvet purse from my office! Bring it with all haste!"

Some peasants brought the new sign over to show the king. It had "Chaffswich" carved out of wood, with roughly carved reliefs showing ears of corn.

The king nodded. "Charming. But what happened to the old sign?"

"We burnt it, your highness," Duncan said, gesturing to the bonfire.

"What was wrong with it?"

"It was a detriment to the town's morale and standing, your highness," Duncan explained. "Especially the way it had all the rats on it."

"Rats!?" the rat-catcher shouted.

"No, Tilly, no rats," another peasant said.

"Ohh," the rat-catcher moped.

The king stroked his beard and strolled around. "And yet though this place is Chaffswich, I see merriment and festivities untroubled by infestation and misery." He picked up a loaf of bread from a nearby stall and bit into it. "And the bread no longer smacks of rat turds."

"No, your highness," Duncan said. "We found a pinch of salt more to our taste."

The king bit off another chunk of bread and chewed. "It is a charming little place." He threw a small coin on the table of the stall. It had his likeness stamped into it. "How did this miracle come to pass?"

"We finally got the infestation under control, your highness," Duncan said as Julius returned with the velvet purse and the keyring.

"And what about the reeve?" the king said. "What's that you have there?"

"Your highness's tithings," Duncan said.

The king shook his head with disbelief. "The reeve insisted there were no tithings to be had from this place. That you were all ill, or rat-bitten, or plain refused to work." He looked about. "Chaffswich is Stenhart's town, is it not?"

"Down with Stenhart the Rat!" a peasant shouted.

"Boo!" another peasant shouted.

"Long live Duncan the Rat Smasher!" came the cry from further back.

The king's eyes flared with irritation. "Be quiet, all of you!"

"Begging your highness's pardon," Duncan bowed. "Stenhart was not at all beloved in this place, your highness. He was a wicked man and unbeloved."

"It's not his job to be beloved!" the king bellowed. "It's his job to make you all.. how much is in that purse?"

"Two whole year's worth, your highness," Duncan said, handing the purse over to the thane. "Although, it was a lean two years--"

"That lying bastard!" the king shouted, stomping his foot. "Deceiver! Bring him before me and I'll cleave his lying skull in!" He unsheathed his sword.

"He took sick and the rats ate him, your highness," Duncan said.

"Drat!" The king resheathed his sword.

"We burnt what was left of him in a pit and--"

"Yes yes," the king interrupted. "And I suppose you put yourself in charge, Duncan?"

"The townsfolk bid me to act in his stead, your highness," Duncan said. "Until such time as you--"

"Peasants have no say in such matters! I'm the king, it's my town, it's my call!" the king blustered. "And I made it very loudly plain to you that you would have no domain greater than a stable upon leaning of the great wickedness you brought upon my son the Atheling's heart," the king said. "That I remember shouting very loudly indeed."

"I remember the shouting well, your highness."

"And what angers me moreso is that he pines for you day and night and grows weaker and paler each day for the lack of you!" the king blustered on.

Duncan's face fell. "Your highness, this news saddens me more than the loss of any holdings or title, truly. I would gladly remain a wretched donkey keeper for all my years than hear of a single lonely tear rolling across his soft cheeks." There was an audible female sigh across the town square.

The king stomped his foot. "Stop that! That's the exact wickedness that put you out here amongst the rats, boy!"

"Tell him about the time when you single-handedly quelled a peasant's revolt, Duncan," Milly said, appearing with her draught horse. She curtsied. "Your majesty."

The king stiffened up. "Hail, Melifrith. That's a lovely horse you've got there! Wait, what revolt?" He looked at his subjects. "Did you revolt, you naughty peasants?"

"A little bit, your majesty," volunteered an older peasant at the front. "Then Duncan bade us get back to our work. It was a very short revolt."

"Oh," the king said. He stroked his beard. "I'm still quite cross at you, Duncan."

Milly smiled and curtsied again. "Does your majesty have news of the younger Atheling?"

"Yes, though he is still barking like a hound," the king grumbled.

Milly couldn't hold back a grin. "Your highness, his voice is only as he bid me--"

"You left him with only a hound's words, Milly!" the king said. "What on earth possessed you?"

Milly screwed up her face trying to hold back a giggle. "If his majesty had properly heeded my warning--"

The king held up his hand. "Enough. He has abandoned any kind of speech in favour of silence. People think him thoughtful and wise for speaking so little. He has become renowned as the Silent Prince."

Milly's giggles faded. "It pleases me to hear he is coping well, your majesty."

"Have you since grown skilled enough in the art to restore his speech all the same?" the king asked.

"My knowledge is at is was, your majesty," Milly said. "Without help, I can not help him."

"What about Hildy?" Hod blurted out.

The king stepped back. "Who said that? Who's Hildy?"

"Hodwin, don't interrupt," Duncan said.

"She's a witch!" Hod grinned.

"Hodwin, please," Milly pleaded.

Hodwin continued. "She's a really really good witch. She's really clever and I bet she can help with your dog prince thing. She even turned m--ph!" Milly pinched Hodwin's lips shut.

The king finally noticed the horses lips moving. His face was suddenly as joyful as a child's. "Ooh! It's the talking horse! I've heard about the talking horse! Is he yours, Melifrith?"

"He is, your majesty. This is Hodwin." She unpinched Hodwin's lips and said a silent prayer.

Hodwin smiled. "I'm a horse! So can we go and ask Hildy for help? Please? I bet she can just whip up a potion and fix him in no time. She's really good!"

Milly curtsied. "It is as he says, your majesty. She is a wisewoman of exceptional wit and skill."

"And she grows apples! I like apples," Hodwin continued. "But can Duncan be an earl again though?"

The king's eyes opened in shock. "What?!"

"Oh no," Milly gulped.

"Only he's really good at it too," Hodwin said. "He's strong, and shouty in a nice way, and everyone likes him, and he gets things done and he's much better than that other fool and he's really good at poems!"

"Don't mention the bloody poems!" Duncan hissed.

"He just wants to do the thing he's best at," Hodwin continued. "I'm best at being a horse. If someone said I couldn't be a horse anymore, ever, I'd be sad. If someone said you couldn't be a king anymore, wouldn't you be sad? Not to mention it'd be a terrible waste of a good king, and a good horse, and a good earl, and a good Milly! I mean, Melifrith!" The horse nodded.

The king narrowed his gaze, then unsheathed his sword. Everyone took a step back except Hod.

"Wow! I can see myself!" Hod giggled, looking at his reflection in the sword. He flicked his ears. "I'm a horse!"

The king was expressionless. "Duncan, Melifrith, on your knees."

The crowd stirred as Duncan and Melifrith got to their knees.

The king touched his sword to Duncan's shoulders in turn.

"Rise, Duncan, Earl of Chaffswich! Your pledge and privileges are restored to you as one of noble lineage. In addition, I appoint you as the King's Poet."

"Your majesty!" Duncan laughed, rising to his feet and bowing. "I am honoured!"

"You're just lucky the queen thinks the world of you," the king cleared his throat. "And now to you, Melifrith."

"Your majesty," Milly said, relaxing.

The king touched his sword gently across Milly's shoulders. "Rise, Lady Melifrith of Chaffswich. Your pledge and privileges of the kingdom are restored to you as one of noble lineage. You're to bring that wisewoman here and bid she take you as her apprentice."

Milly didn't rise. "Majesty, I--"

"What is it?" the king said.

Milly looked up at the king, still kneeling. "The commoner I took for a husband has shown me a rare and incredible devotion, I cannot simply abandon him to his fate after all he's sacrificed."

"Milly, what's wrong?" Hod asked, nudging her shoulder.

"Your majesty, I can accept no title if it means breaking the bonds of love," Milly said.

The king shook his head. "Well, you can't just walk around on your knees forever, woman."

"Your majesty, I--ow!" she yelped, leaping to her feet from a firm bite on the bottom. "Hodwin! Bad horse!" She smacked him across the nose. She felt only his innocent merriment and affection for her as the townsfolk laughed.

"Oh!" the king laughed. "The horse bit her on the bum! What a naughty thing! Well done!"

Milly led Hodwin away to one side and leaned on his head. "You don't understand at all what you've just done, Hodwin." She stroked his long neck. "We are no longer married. Our bond is broken."

"No it's not," Hodwin said.

"But I am no longer your wife!" Milly gasped. "Does this not break your heart?" She felt only the warm glow of his affection.

"Why should it break anything?" Hodwin cheerfully said, "I'm a horse!"

Milly smiled sadly and stroked his cheek. "You're a wonderful horse, but a very silly one."

"But I'm your horse," Hodwin insisted. "Even when I'm not literally a horse, I'll still be your horse, because that's what I'm here for. Doing the horse thing." He pressed her snout against her shoulder gently. "Because.. ?"

"Because you're my horse," Milly smiled, shedding a tear. "Thank you, Hodwin. I honestly can't think of what I did to deserve you."

Hod suddenly started. "Hey! Back there when I said the things to the king and I thought he was going to cut everyone's head off for a second until I saw how shiny his sword was and how I said if you couldn't do the thing you're best at you'd be a waste of a good Milly?"

Milly blinked. "Yes. I remember feeling somewhat furious that you forgot my vocation except I thought I wasn't going to live long enough to tell you off."

"I didn't forget! I was only teasing!" Hod laughed. "Duncan gets to be an earl, I get to be a horse, the king gets to shout and eat things, and you get to do your potions and stuff again. What's it called?"

Milly smiled. "A wisewoman."

Hod continued. "And does a wisewoman need a horse?"

Milly beamed. "This one does."

Hod whickered happily. "And what about a husband?"

"No, husbands are forbid--" Milly stopped. "Wisewomen aren't permitted to marry because all the craft in the kingdom is at the sole command of the king."

Hod nodded. "That's why they live in swamps, to keep the husbands away!" He smiled. "Whatever it's called, whatever you need, I'll be that. Including the horse part. I'm your horse."

Milly blinked tears and smiled.

Hildy heard Fluvius's hooves against the stonework of the Crooked Swamp Inn. She knew he knew to wait until she'd put her quill down and looked up to ask him. He knew she knew that if he didn't, she'd lose her place and she'd be crabby for the rest of the day. She might also throw something.

Hildy looked over the potion recipe one last time, checking it against the old recipe in the old book, then put her quill down. Then she picked the quill up again. Then she put it down. Then she pressed her hands together twice, and then she looked up at Fluvius. She smiled at the braid in his hair.

"You're getting good at those braids, Flu," she remarked.

Fluvius smiled. "Thank you, Deedee. There is someone to meet you."

"I guessed that much, Flu," she said, wiping the ink off her hands. "Did I hear a horse?"

"You did," Fluvius said. "You have received a royal summons."

"Another one?" Hildy said. "Would I be interested?"

"You are hereby summoned at the pleasure of His Majesty King Edwick," Fluvius began. He interrupted. "He's the shouty one."

"They're all shouty," Hildy giggled. "He's the one with the beard. I know him."

Fluvius cleared his throat and put on a funny pompous voice. "We require your presence as King's Head Wisewoman to assist with matters of your expertise, and to have one of our nobles apprentice under you. Wage will be blah blah, please return in haste."

"Wisewoman, eh?" Hildy laughed. "They certainly don't want a witch in their castle these days, do they?" She shook her head. "Not interested anyway. Hate castles."

"It won't be in a castle, if that matters," a woman's voice called out. "You'd be living in a peasant town. You may have heard of its talking horse."

Hildy grumbled. "Fluvius, did you not explain the rules to them?" She came out from behind her desk and threw her ink-rag over her shoulder.

"I always explain the rules, Dee," he smiled as she stormed out of the dilapidated inn.

"Right," Hildy grumbled, working up a head of angry. "You're in my swamp which means you heed my rules, understand?" She stopped dead as she found herself in front of a familiar draught horse with a familiar noblewoman riding a familiar cart behind her. "I don't care how glad I am to see you, I don't care if things all worked out in the end, I don't even care if this is the most marvellous thing I've seen in my whole life. The rules are there for a reason." She scowled. "Now get yourself down from there and turn this horse back into a fellow so we can have a proper catch-up." She patted Hod on the neck. "I'll fetch you some clothes, Hoddy."

"Hi Hildy!" Hod cried cheerfully. "I'm a horse! Oolp!" He felt his insides start to squirm and wriggle at Milly's command and he settled his rump dizzily down onto the ground for balance. "Perhaps not."

Milly giggled and kissed his cheek. "It's not a proper visit if you stay a horse, Hod." She hugged him around his neck as the horse creaked, popped, wriggled and squirmed swiftly back into the man who'd stumbled into the swamp months before. There was, as ever, a lot of giggling and hugs shared between them.

"You two sound like you're having fun," Hildy said, tossing a bundle of clothes towards Hodwin. "Never thought I'd say that about a transformation." She smiled. "Did I do alright, you two?"

Milly and Hodwin both nodded. "Extremely well, yes," Milly reassured her.

"All is well?" Hildy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"All is as well as can be," Milly nodded.

"Good!" Hildy smiled. "It was a unique enough set of circumstances. Probably a one-off." She served them all a cup of cider each. "Here, tell us what you think of this."

Hodwin took a sip and spat it out. "It's dreadful and smacks of frog."

Hildy nodded. "That it is and that it does," she said, pouring the bottle out. "The air here just rots things. For cider you need fermentation. Rot's no good."

Milly smiled. "Cider aside, I've very much been looking forward to meeting you. You are renowned as a great practitioner in the craft."

Hildy laughed. "Renowned? Great?" She shook her head. "I'm surprised word even spread of me from here. And I was a bit of a one-noter."

"But what a note!" Milly grinned. "You were the great Black Shriek of Crooked Swamp!" She looked around. "I can scarcely believe I am sitting here talking to you in Crooked Swamp itself. I've even dreamt of this." She smiled. "I heard about the thing with the bears as well. Nice work."

"The bears went alright too?" Hildy smiled. "And to think you doubted me, Fluvius."

"I don't like bears!" Fluvius snorted.

"As for this place, well." Hildy cast her eye wearily around the swamp. "I only ever put myself here because I thought it was what I deserved, you know. A miserable spot to keep my well of misery full to the brim. That's why you find malevolent witches in rotten places like this. They have to convince themselves the world is just that hateful and awful or they lose their edge." She shook her head.

"You knew about her, Milly?" Hod blinked. "If you'd told me where to find her, I could have been home much sooner."

"I made it my business to be difficult to find," Hildy grinned. "Didn't stop some people though."

"And here they met their beastly doom," Milly grinned wickedly.

"Aye," Hildy nodded. "In the good old days, I'd even change them based on what they were, I had a whole system worked out. Let's see," she counted on her fingers. "Harmless strangers were cows. Tax collectors were chickens. Bailiffs were foxes." She looked up. "I know what you're thinking and you'd be right, but I'm reformed now. Any cleric or clergy or witchfinder, donkey. If someone managed to draw blood from me, I'd change them into a pig. Everyone else went under miscellaneous." She gestured out to the swamp. "Frogs and toads, mainly."

Hodwin thought it over. "Didn't the foxes eat the chickens?"

"All the time," Hildy said. "That was the point. I wasn't a very nice person."

"And why pigs?" Hodwin asked.

"Why does anyone keep pigs?" Hildy said, a little exasperated.

Hodwin blinked. "You weren't a very nice person at all, Hildy!"

"That's why I started growing the apples in the first place, to make applesauce for the pork!" Hildy shrugged.

"That's horrid!" Hodwin gasped.

"How utterly wicked!" Milly grinned broadly.

"And as a former expert in wickedness, let me tell you everything you need to know about it," Hildy said. "It needs only great power with no consequences." She nodded. "There's your first lesson as my apprentice."

Milly blinked. "You'll come with us? You'll take me as your apprentice?!"

"Oh yes," Hildy said. "It's a royal summons, after all! And Fluvius has been very patient about it!"

"Finally finally!" Fluvius snorted. "I will pack up your remaining disorganised piles of weird crap at once." He strode back into the inn grumpily.

Hildy giggled. "And wherever you two came from can't be all that bad. Do they still talk about the thing I did with the rats?"

"It's part of our harvest festivities!" Milly smiled.

"Good!" Hildy smiled, slapping her thighs proudly. "You took long enough to get out here though. I've had all sorts of offers from this king and that. I told them all I was awaiting a formal but highly confidential commission and sent them back the way they came."

"You didn't turn them into frogs?" Hodwin asked. "I mean, toads. Which was it again?"

"Of course I didn't," Hildy said. "If they pressed the matter, I shouted a bit and illusion up some thunder and wolfy noises from the forest. The really persistent ones get the mosquito swarm. Or the bees." She grinned and looked around the swamp again. "I'm not going to miss this place a bit. I'm sure all the mosquitos would have been easier to take if I went with my original idea of being some kind of half-frog thing."

Hod nodded. "It would have helped a lot. You'd make a nice half-frog thing."

"Thank you, Hodwin," Hildy said. "And you make a lovely horse."

"It's Milly who makes me a lovely horse," Hodwin corrected her.

"Now, do you let him walk about on two feet much?" Hildy asked.

"From time to time," Milly smiled, a little wickedly.

"Well! I'll definitely need to keep an eye on you then," Hildy said. "If only for poor sweet Hod's sake."

"But I don't mind being a horse," Hod began. "Although, is it me or is Fluvius not as horsey as before?"

"Bits of him have started popping back to normal these days," Hildy shrugged. "He's been trying to make me laugh ever since he found out it turns him back to human. They're funny old things, curses. They just sort of dissolve if there's fondness enough."

"You have too much crap, Hildy!" Fluvius called from the inn. "It's like your crap has its own crap!"

"I'm coming, Flu, you big grumpy beast!" Hildy called out. She grinned and patted Milly on the knee. "Come on, you, this is apprentice work too." She stood up and helped Milly to her feet.

"Can I help?" Hod beamed. "Preferably in some sort of horse-related capacity?"

"No, but pick us some apples from the orchard for the journey," Hildy said. "Otherwise they'll go to waste." She gestured to an apple basket.

"Apples, yes!" Hod said. "I love apples. I'm a horse!" He hesitated. "Usually!"

Hildy watched Hod wander off to the orchard as she took Milly towards the inn. Hod turned back towards Milly and smiled, then went on.

"What's that all about?" Hildy said.

Milly smiled. "I can feel his poor little heart aching for me to let him be a horse again." She rolled the amulet between her fingers.

"Sounds like you both need some training," Hildy grumbled. "Oh, mind those tree stumps."

"What are they?" Milly said, looking at the semicircle of tree stumps.

"Witches who don't read the fine print," she chuckled. She stopped in front of a chest marked 'Milly'. "Now, what should we put in your library first..."

Hod and Milly lay side by side in the grazing field as the autumn sun glowed with muted cheer. Milly rubbed Hod's chest as he twirled a piece of grass between his fingers.

"It's funny, you know," Hod said, sniffing at it. "For some reason this stuff is absolutely delicious when I'm a horse, but it's not very nice when I'm not." He patted his belly. "I wonder where it all goes when you change me back."

"I'm sure Hildy could tell you," Milly smiled. "Speaking of which, here she comes."

"Milly, on your feet," Hildy said from the nearby road. "Stop cavorting with the peasant folk." Fluvius was at her side, tail swishing away the mayflies.

"Wisewomen are meant to cavort with beasts," Milly smiled. She bowed to Fluvius. "Well met, Fluvius."

Fluvius smiled warmly from an almost-not-horsey human face with pointy-but-not-horsey ears. "Your ladyship." His beard wiggled as he spoke. "Are you well?"

"It is a glad afternoon," Milly smiled. "You are more human again so soon?"

"He told me a particularly rude joke coming back from the castle that nearly made me wet myself," Hildy said. "The younger Atheling knows a few of them."

Milly grinned a little too wide. "He speaks again?"

"Indeed!" Hildy replied. "But how's our Hodwin coming?"

"Hodwin's fine," Milly smiled, looking back at her beloved sitting up in the grass. "He's been a man since you left us here a few days ago."

"Hi Hildy!" Hod waved. He pointed to himself. "I'm not a horse!"

"Good!" Hildy said. "Come join us, Hodwin!"

Hodwin enthusiastically rolled forward onto all fours to walk over to them, then fell over awkwardly. He stood up with a faceful of grass. "Sorry. Forgot I wasn't a horse. Ouch."

Milly dusted the grass off him sympathetically. "Are you alright, Hod?" She swatted the stray blades away from his mouth as he tried to pull it into his mouth with his lips. "Stop trying to eat the grass." She fetched a clump of it and handed it to Fluvius. "Don't let him have it back."

"Can I have some later though?" Hodwin asked.

Milly smiled and ruffled his hair. "If you're especially good." Hodwin gave a horsey grunt of happiness.

"That's not a mane, Milly," Hildy reminded her. "Let him be a man."

"He's still a very horsey man," Fluvius noted. He sniffed at the grass.

"So the younger Atheling is in good spirits?" Milly smiled.

"His spirits are too good. He even asked me to turn him into a dog to amuse you," Hildy sighed. "That boy can't be trusted with magic at all."

Milly giggled. "I suppose it would amuse me. What sort of dog?"

"What sort of dog?! Milly, you'll have a whole bestiary of suitors at this rate!" Hildy laughed. "Honestly, you've got fellows lining up for the same treatment I used to dish out in the worst days of my wickedness."

"It wouldn't be the same though," Hod said.

"Obviously not," Hildy said. "They'd not be in any danger from applesauce."

"No, I mean, the Atheling," Hod said. "He'd just be a person that looks like a dog to amuse my lady." He folded his arms. "But he'd just bark a bit and run around and wag his tail. That's not impressive at all. He didn't go and face a cranky witch with nothing more than a pointy stick, spend years as a donkey getting kicked up the bottom so he could make the witch realise she was actually nice, lock himself away in a swamp for twenty years just to get really good at something when he could have been just alright at it like everyone else, or get tossed out of the castle on purpose for making a prince have a dog voice just to keep her brother from harm in a rat-infested town run by a cruel reeve and then fall in love with a silly peasant with a handsome horse and stick with him through season after season of rotten luck and misery when at any time she could have just fixed the dog thing and all would have been forgiven just like that."

Milly and Hildy both stared wide-eyed at Hod.

Milly looked at Hod with searching eyes. "You knew this?"

"Yes!" Hod grinned. He blinked, suddenly looking worried. "Sorry, was I not meant to?"

"Is Hodwin correct?" Hildy asked, turning to Milly.

Milly hesitated, then nodded. "He is." She closed her eyes. "I would have cured the atheling with a concoction of--"

"Dandelion root, nettles and honeyflower," Hod interrupted. "She talked in her sleep sometimes."

Milly sighed at Hodwin happily and pointed each of them out, growing wild. "They were always right there."

Hildy's mentoring insticts suddenly kicked in. "Well! You could have cured him with that if it were thirty years ago and a simple peasant wisewoman," Hildy said. "But all you really need is the nettles, and only a certain part of the nettles. They can even be administered raw, if you don't particularly like the person you're curing." She grinned. "The rest is just to cover the taste, really." Her words trailed off suddenly. "But yes, your tea would have done its work."

Milly looked from Fluvius's face to Hildy's face to Hodwin's face. She sniffled at the sight of Hodwin's warm smile.

"I brought you such woe, Hodwin," Milly said, shaking her head.

"I never thought so," Hodwin replied, embracing his wife. "It was woe brought to both of us, after all."

"But the reeve.." Milly said. "And Maybrook. It was all meant for me. Not for you."

Hodwin smiled and kissed her cheek. "But you didn't leave me even when you could have, which is why I never stopped loving you. And even after you sent me away to find the Black Shriek, every day when I thought I couldn't go a step further, I thought 'Milly wouldn't stop, so I can't stop either'. And then Hildy turned the reeve into rats and Duncan is an earl again and I get to be a great big horse and Fluvius gets to be sort of a horse and you get to be a mighty witch - I mean wisewoman - with a great big horse!" Hodwin jiggled with excitement.

"He does go on about that," Fluvius grumbled.

"But I didn't send--" Milly put her hand over her mouth. "Hildy, I did send him to you!" She choked on her tears. "You were the exact witch I had in mind for him!"

"See?!" Hodwin bounced.

A tightness in Milly's heart relaxed. She embraced Hodwin tenderly and kissed him on the lips. "We've all been wonderfully foolish, haven't we?"

"Not me," Fluvius said, chewing the meadow grass. "I totally knew what I was doing. Hey, this is good grass!" He hoofed it over to the meadow and plucked up a handful more.

"He did know what he was doing, annoyingly so," Hildy said. "Oh, I had the blacksmith do us up a couple of amulets for our guild of wisewomen." She lay an amulet over Milly's head. It had a design of a horse standing on a giant apple.

"What's this?" Milly smiled.

"It's Maybrook!" Hodwin bounced some more.

"I thought we might call ourselves the Wise Guild of Maybrook," Hildy grinned. "If that's alright with you, Hod?"

Hodwin folded his arms. "I'd very much prefer the Wise Guild of the Lovely Horse," he said, nodding decisively.

Hildy bit her tongue. "I hate to admit but I prefer that."

Milly giggled. "The Wise Guild of the Lovely Horse it is, then." She kissed Hodwin on the cheek.

Hodwin suddenly looked pleadingly at Milly and Hildy. "So... is that good enough yet? Can I go clopping through the grass for a bit now?"

Milly shook her head in exasperation. "You said all that just to eat some grass?"

"Yeah," Hod said with a faint smile. "It's very good grass!"

"It's horsenip grass," Hildy smirked. "Don't eat too much of it, Fluvius. It'll make you silly!"

"I'm a horse!" Fluvius called out, adding a loud whicker. He fell down in the meadow and kicked his hooves in the air. "Look at my hooves!"

A comedy fantasy about a witch changing her ways with the help of a monk, a family of disgraced nobles and a peasant who goes to extreme lengths based on a simple misunderstanding.

Also there is a lovely horse called Maybrook. Sort of.

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Category:: Literary / Story

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The Tale of Maybrook by KeweyTanuki