met the best friend I've ever had. You're not the only one responsible for this. No one made me kiss you. And if it weren't for me, we wouldn't have come out here to talk with the witch. So stop feeling guilty and help me figure out a way to get through this."
"Maybe if we move to the opposite sides of the bag ..."
"We'll roll together again like we did last time. At least if we start out near each other we won't bump together as hard when she picks up the sack."
"I have an even better idea," said Eadric. "If I hold on to you, we won't roll into each other at all."
"Fine," I said. "We could try that."
"And while I'm there, you might as well give me a kiss."
"What?"
"Who knows what that witch has in mind? She might toss us in a cauldron of boiling water or feed us to a pet dragon. This may be our last chance to show how we feel about each other."
"Show how we ... Are you crazy? Kissing you is the last thing I want to do right now!"
"Hey, it sounded like a good idea to me."
"I told you," I said, getting exasperated, "I don't want to take any chances!"
I could feel the ground vibrate as the witch returned. She opened the sack suddenly and the moonlight poured in.
"Do you think we could make a run for it?" I whispered in Eadric's eardrum. "Because if she—"
A small, thorn-covered plant fell on us. The wet mud encasing the roots dripped in sour-smelling globs onto our heads. Sputtering, I covered my face with my hands.
"Ow!" wailed Eadric. "Those thorns are sharp!"
I spit out a mouthful of mud. "Try not to talk. That stuff tastes terrible!"
The witch jerked the sack off the ground and carried it a few yards. She opened the top again, but only long enough to drop in a handful of leaves. I cringed, having recognized the shape of the poison oak leaf at once, but it was too late and I knew it. I'm in for it now, I thought. Even the briefest contact with poison oak gave me a rash, and now my back was covered with the leaves.
When the witch picked up the sack, Eadric and I tensed our muscles, waiting for the next impact with the ground. But the sack continued to sway in the witch's hands as she slogged across the marshy ground. After a while, Eadric began to groan.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Is it the thorns?"
"No," whispered Eadric.
"Is it the mud?"
"No," whispered Eadric.
"Then what is it?"
"It's this swaying back and forth," he said. "I don't feel very well."
"Take a deep breath and think of something else. And please face the other way if you're going to be sick."
If the witch's house had been any farther, we might not have made it. As it was, Eadric was groaning loudly long before the witch opened her cottage door and I was worried that he wasn't going to survive the trip: he was groaning so much that if he didn't die of bag-sickness first, I was going to strangle him to put him out of his misery. I wondered if all male frogs were such babies when they were sick, or only the ones who used to be princes.
I was still trying to block out Eadric's moans by covering my eardrums with my hands when the witch set her lantern down with a clang. Reaching into the sack, she grabbed us and shoved us into a small wicker cage. My head spinning, I lay on the cage floor while she slammed the door shut and fastened a complicated latch.
"There," she said. "That should hold you until I'm ready."
"Ready for what?" I asked the witch as my head cleared. The woman ignored me and emptied her sack onto a rickety table in the middle of the room.
"Yoo-hoo, Witchy! Ready for what?" Eadric echoed me in a shaky voice. The witch turned her back on our cage and took off her shawl.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're very rude?" Eadric asked, his voice getting stronger. "You kidnap us, lock us in a cage without an explanation, and expect us to be nice, well-behaved frogs. Obviously, you don't know me. I don't take anything quietly!"
"Eadric! Shh!" I hissed at him. "You'll make things worse!"
"How can it get worse than this? We were
"Maybe if we move to the opposite sides of the bag ..."
"We'll roll together again like we did last time. At least if we start out near each other we won't bump together as hard when she picks up the sack."
"I have an even better idea," said Eadric. "If I hold on to you, we won't roll into each other at all."
"Fine," I said. "We could try that."
"And while I'm there, you might as well give me a kiss."
"What?"
"Who knows what that witch has in mind? She might toss us in a cauldron of boiling water or feed us to a pet dragon. This may be our last chance to show how we feel about each other."
"Show how we ... Are you crazy? Kissing you is the last thing I want to do right now!"
"Hey, it sounded like a good idea to me."
"I told you," I said, getting exasperated, "I don't want to take any chances!"
I could feel the ground vibrate as the witch returned. She opened the sack suddenly and the moonlight poured in.
"Do you think we could make a run for it?" I whispered in Eadric's eardrum. "Because if she—"
A small, thorn-covered plant fell on us. The wet mud encasing the roots dripped in sour-smelling globs onto our heads. Sputtering, I covered my face with my hands.
"Ow!" wailed Eadric. "Those thorns are sharp!"
I spit out a mouthful of mud. "Try not to talk. That stuff tastes terrible!"
The witch jerked the sack off the ground and carried it a few yards. She opened the top again, but only long enough to drop in a handful of leaves. I cringed, having recognized the shape of the poison oak leaf at once, but it was too late and I knew it. I'm in for it now, I thought. Even the briefest contact with poison oak gave me a rash, and now my back was covered with the leaves.
When the witch picked up the sack, Eadric and I tensed our muscles, waiting for the next impact with the ground. But the sack continued to sway in the witch's hands as she slogged across the marshy ground. After a while, Eadric began to groan.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Is it the thorns?"
"No," whispered Eadric.
"Is it the mud?"
"No," whispered Eadric.
"Then what is it?"
"It's this swaying back and forth," he said. "I don't feel very well."
"Take a deep breath and think of something else. And please face the other way if you're going to be sick."
If the witch's house had been any farther, we might not have made it. As it was, Eadric was groaning loudly long before the witch opened her cottage door and I was worried that he wasn't going to survive the trip: he was groaning so much that if he didn't die of bag-sickness first, I was going to strangle him to put him out of his misery. I wondered if all male frogs were such babies when they were sick, or only the ones who used to be princes.
I was still trying to block out Eadric's moans by covering my eardrums with my hands when the witch set her lantern down with a clang. Reaching into the sack, she grabbed us and shoved us into a small wicker cage. My head spinning, I lay on the cage floor while she slammed the door shut and fastened a complicated latch.
"There," she said. "That should hold you until I'm ready."
"Ready for what?" I asked the witch as my head cleared. The woman ignored me and emptied her sack onto a rickety table in the middle of the room.
"Yoo-hoo, Witchy! Ready for what?" Eadric echoed me in a shaky voice. The witch turned her back on our cage and took off her shawl.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're very rude?" Eadric asked, his voice getting stronger. "You kidnap us, lock us in a cage without an explanation, and expect us to be nice, well-behaved frogs. Obviously, you don't know me. I don't take anything quietly!"
"Eadric! Shh!" I hissed at him. "You'll make things worse!"
"How can it get worse than this? We were
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