The thought that I’d almost poked a toad with my bare hands was nearly as horrifying as the fact that it was talking to me. 

“Did you just saw ‘ew’ at me,” the toad demanded with a croak. An aggrieved puff of its entire body as it rolled about to look at me. The thing was ugly, and sort of fat. Not nearly the size of the large pumpkin next to him, but twice as big as the other squash I’d categorized him with. The frog (toad?) hopped forward once, with a wet ‘plap’, to the edge of the table. And I scooted further backward away from it. “You puerile scions, no cognizance for the arcadian pulchritudes in life.” 

I didn’t want to admit to a toad (frog?)that I didn’t understand a single word it had used. 

“Nothing to say, then?” The frog asked, seemingly pleased that it had stumped me. “No answer? No idea which witch is a witch? Or which witch is which?”

“Your little quizzical prose wasn’t witty the first two decades, Humphrey.” Old Maggie stated with a sigh. “And it’s not witty now either.” Humphrey, the toad, rolled its bulging eyes. One eye blinked towards me, the other one remained in the direction of Old Maggie’s back. I refrained from saying ‘ew’ again.  

“Everyone’s a critic,” it croaked. “Where’s your love of alliterative rhyming?” Considering his two eyes were looking in two different directions, I wasn’t sure which of us he was speaking to. Which witch? Drat, now he had me doing it too. 

“Does your frog-”

“Toad.”

“Toad,” I corrected. “Talk to everyone?” If it did, I couldn’t imagine the baker’s wife could keep quiet about it. Or anyone. 

My nose wrinkled as it rolled both of its eyes to look back at me. When I glanced at Old Maggie, she gave a small shrug of her shoulder. I took that as a ‘no’. Then she went about brushing the remains of the chopped herbs into the pot with her fingers. The embarrassed doubts I’d had that she maybe was normal were gone without a trace.  

"So, then, child. If I am a witch.” She was definitely a witch. “What would bring you to my doorstep?” 

“It was my doorstep first,” Humphrey cut in. I looked at him skeptically. “Well, in a manner of speaking.”

I took that as my opportunity to pull off my backpack. 

"A man--a trader." I don't know why I was stumbling over my words now but I couldn’t break my staring contest with the toad. "He wanted me to drop these off to you." Maybe he was doing me a kindness. Or was she tricking me? Or they both were tricking me. Old Maggie didn't make a move other than continuing to stir as I pulled out the book and the flask. “As a gift? He said he couldn’t do it himself.” I wanted to put them on the table but the toad just sat there. It sort of looked like it was smiling? But I didn’t think they could smile. So maybe he was just being… toad-like? I braved his presence and set the items next to the pumpkin. 

At least, to my knowledge, nothing bad had happened to me yet under her roof. She didn’t seem angry. The toad only seemed mildly insulted. Maggie’s back remained to me and it was too peaceful, so my mind created a new host of possibilities. If she was really so kind and harmless, why didn't the trader want to come here? Couldn’t he at least have warned me about the toad? 

“And here.” I pulled out one of my handkerchiefs. I decided not to look at the toad as I flattened the handkerchief out on the table. While she wasn’t hostile, I couldn’t bring myself to walk right up to it and offer it to her. The table was a safe middle ground. If I’d had the time, I’d have embroidered her something witch-like. But the closest I had was one embroidered with a willow tree. “That’s just… from me?” It didn’t seem like it’d hurt to muster a little goodwill from Maggie, after all. Besides, I didn’t have the time to sell them. 

Maggie made no additional moves or comments aside from stirring her pot of herbs. But Humphrey gave another croak and waddled onto it. I grimaced at my poor handkerchief as he wiggled his little toad body to get comfortable on it. I think I saw something wet soak into the fabric. I hoped, with a little bit of pettiness, that he’d end up in the pot too. After what felt like hours, she tapped her spoon against the edge of the pot and turned back toward me. I wanted to back up again, mostly because I didn’t want the toad to touch me. What if I got warts? 

Her expression was unreadable, and she looked down at my and Auden’s modest offerings. I wish I could say she seemed interested. But her mouth seemed closer to a frown than anything. 

"A 'man-trader' wanted you to drop these off to me?" She repeated my statement slowly. "The five-minute walk from the market was too much for him, then?" I wasn't sure if she was legitimately asking me or not. 

“Longer for a toad,” Humphrey stated, rather unhelpfully. “Maybe twenty minutes.”

"I-I thought it was silly." After all, while intimidating, she wasn't terrifying. There didn't seem much reason to avoid her so thoroughly as a full-grown man. Oh, but what if that’s what someone thought before and now they were Humphrey? Fear and imagination made me babble. "He even has a wagon, and I just have my backpack, and it didn't seem like he was pressed for time." I knew I was rambling but I couldn't help it as she stared at me. “But he said he wanted to trade with you and that these were gifts.” It wasn’t entirely unheard of for traders to give new buyers gifts, especially if they were people they intended to continue trading with. “He really seemed eager for you to have it?” I was definitely rambling, and panicking, and I placed my hands down on the book to push it closer to her. Then flask as well. 

Something wet touched my hand, and it took my brain far too long to register a tongue touching me. The toad’s tongue stretched at me, and the flask. My hands scrambled about in an attempt to recoil away, then I released the disgusted scream I’d been holding onto.

Old Maggie caught the book before it could slide off, and the toad pulled the flask up to his body. I scrubbed furiously at where the tongue had touched me with my sleeve. I was impressed by the tongue's strength, and I wanted to vomit. Though, really? What was more perfect than a witch with a toad? My childhood self felt vindicated. I felt moderately violated. 

“Do you have soap?” I asked pitifully. She didn’t answer me as she flipped listlessly through the pages. Altogether, she looked rather unimpressed. If I wasn’t so resentful now that Auden had sent me here, I’d feel bad for him. I just hoped she didn’t look at my handkerchief so blankly. Silently, I watched in a repulsed fascination as the toad wrapped its tongue around the flask and… purred? Did toads purr?

“It’s golden fig wine,” it said with distinct pleasure. 

“Control yourself, Humphrey.” Another flip of a page, though she didn’t seem to actually be reading any of it. “And what was this trader’s name?” 

“Auden,” I answered easily. 

I thought something had been thrown at me when a blur of red came at me. Actually, I would have preferred something thrown, as the toad’s tongue latched onto the cord around my neck. The cord that had tied the velvet bag. It had been long enough to wear like a necklace. And now the toad pulled at it with the same strength as a man, bringing me trapped to the edge of the table. 

“She has a promised tithe.” It had never been in my nature to hurt animals. Even weird, slimy, rhyming, talking ones. But I yanked back against Humphrey’s horrifying tongue. I’d have better luck wrestling with an ox. When I looked at Maggie for help, she was rubbing her fingers against her mouth, and when I saw past them I saw she was smiling warily. These were two words from the toad that I was familiar with. Yet, not in this context. 

The rest of my tugging was halfhearted as I watched Maggie walk up to me. Humphrey’s tongue only receded once Maggie’s thin hands reached out toward my chest. Two fingers pinched down on the cord and lifted it up enough to look closer at the bag. 

“Is there something inside of this?” 

“Yes?” That much seemed obvious. 

“Did you place it inside yourself?” I didn’t like how she said that as though it was important. 

Bad luck, I thought as sympathy and amusement twisted around on the witch’s lips. 

“Child. You have been tricked.”