FAIRY FROGMOTHER
by Charlotte Henley Babb
aven Morrigan, fairy godmother extraordinaire, stood in the middle of a road deep in the forest, wondering if it were worthwhile to transform one more ash-covered wench into a princess. It was late, not yet sunset but dark under the ancient trees. Her wand hung heavy in her hand, and her weary wings would not lift her off the ground. She didn’t think she could even swizzle up enough energy to poof herself home.
"Just once," she muttered, "I wish a handsome prince would notice ME." No sooner thought than said, no sooner said than one prince, handsome as requested, appeared, galloping frantically. He was headed right for Maven, as hard as he could ride.
"Get out of the way, Old One," he yelled. "Move it!"
His horse's hooves scattered dirt and leaf mold in his wake. Maven could smell the horse's sweat as she reached for her wand and snapped it towards the Prince,
Maven's wand arced, sending a hex to turn the hapless prince into a frog. There was plenty of energy for that spell in her anger alone. The green sparkles nearly blinded her as the horse reared and shied away. Sparks flew, and the shockwave knocked Maven off her feet. Rumbling hoof beats on the road urged her to scramble out of the way, but instead of running, Maven...leapt! She narrowly escaped being trampled by five horsemen hastening after the prince.
Her heart pounded for a few seconds before she realized how low she lay to the ground and how wet her skin was. Reaching up to feel her face, she saw her hand had become four webbed fingers on a pale green palm. She felt for her wings, which were still anchored behind her shoulder blades, but her gossamer dress had disappeared, as had her hair.
Maven had turned herself into a frog.
Croaking expletives, Maven searched for her wand. It lay miraculously unbroken in the roadway, now longer than her whole body. She grasped it with eight tiny fingers, braced the handle against the dusty road and swung with all her weight, mumbling the spell through her body-wide mouth. Magic showered down, but nothing happened. At least, she still had some magic. Maven dragged the wand out of the dust, which was fast drying on her skin. She could smell water, only a few leaps away. She crawled through the leaf mold, learning that webbed feet were not designed for walking. Finally reaching the creek, she plopped in to re-slime her skin.
She needed backup. It wasn't going to be pretty, but she might as well face it now.
