Frogspawn Swamp I worked hard all my lifetime

Thread names from the song  "Mercedes Benz" written by Janis Joplin, Bob Neuwirth and Michael McClure. @Towhee

Dwin would not have even considered turning westwards, had it not been for the very loud frog chorus coming from a swamp. At first she had thought it was just nearby the plains she had been spending time, resting and hunting. But then it turned out that the collective mating song of thousands of horny frog-men could reach unimaginable decibels and travel very far from the source. 

The swamp greeted her with stuffy air, saturated with moisture from the stagnant water. Dwin leaned down to have a sniff at it, scrunched her muzzle in disgust and retreated. Further away puffs and fluffs of green algae interspersed with slimy islands of frog-spawn. For the most part the young Blackthorn was not very picky, when it came to drinking from suspicious sources. But something about the combination of potential food-poisoning and the fact of, where those eggs had come from, made her consider her options. 

She decided then to enjoy the music of the frogs and search for a more suitable watersource in the meanwhile. 

She fell asleep thinking of her rainy swim with @Rodyn, then dreamed of @Maxim for the first time in many months. He was trying to explain where he’d gone and why but Towhee couldn’t read his lips. He was signing but in some other language, not Ptero. It was a very absurd and frustrating dream, putting her in a weird funk that persisted as she stepped out of The Taigh and wandered away toward the borders.

Towhee worked out some of the negative emotions via a patrol. The day was still young when she hit her starting point near Meerkat’s Bourie, so she paused to ponder a moment before striding toward the neighboring swamp. She couldn’t hear the frogs’ siren songs, though once she began wading through the boggy terrain, she heavily considered trapping a frog or two to take home to her grandchildren.

She spotted a different critter altogether, a familiar and welcome sight. Forgetting all about their last, brief exchange, her mind immediately went to the one prior to that. It was just as malodorous here, albeit in an entirely different way. Come to think of it, this was just the sort of place where a coven of witches might meet to cackle and cast spells.

Hags assemble! she bellowed into the muggy air, redolent of amorous amphibians.

Dwin snapped around, when she heard the familiar coarse voice behind her. "YOU!" she yelled back, tail wagging wildly behind her and her thumping the ground with her forepaws in the excitement of seeing the old hag in person. So much time had passed that she had entirely forgotten their last rather unfriendly encounter. The only regret was that she had been unable to introduce Sylvie to a proper witch, when they had been journeying the coast earlier that year. But just as good hunters never reveal their best hunting grounds, so do old hags never truly tell the other hag, where they dwell. After all only regular people made the mistake of inviting a hag in their home without realizing the consequences. Two hags in one dwelling... that was as good as nuclear annihilation. 

"How have you been, you moth-eaten bombazine?" she asked, when they were within a distance, where they could communicate without shouting. Though - she noted - for some reason her friend was always loud. "Throwing curses around? Is this pond full of your unfortunate late husbands?" she asked, beckoning to the frogs nearby, who, as on command, jumped from the tree root they had been sitting on right in the water and swam away quickly. 

Maybe their friendship was both odd and serendipitous, though Towhee eyed the hearty swing of Ceridwen’s tail and could only think, Same. She was delighted to see the younger she-wolf, and as ever entertained by her saucy commentary.

The mention of late husbands made her think of her dream and, for an instant, a sort of huh! expression floated across her face. Then Towhee’s cheeky little grin returned as she closed the space, stepping on something on the way. She looked down halfway expecting to see a frog, though it just a rotten, slippery leaf.

Maybe that’s why at least one of them was haunting my dreams last night, she replied, pressing a tongue ponderously into her cheek. I’m actually here to gather ingredients for a spell, of course: eye of newt, ear of bat, tongue of toad, that sort of thing. You know. She waved a paw. What’ve you been up to, novitiate?

"Just one? I hear thousands," Dwin feigned surprise and cast a glance around. The sound of the frog concerto was so loud and overwhelming, she was sure that there was at least - gazillion? - around them. "Guess, this is a place, where all hags dump their unfaithful, wayward husbands that they have grown bored of," she remarked, thinking of Circe and her knack of turning men into pigs. Now she wondered, had the story ever mentioned, what she did with them afterwards? Her mind went even further than that - if she ate a man-turned-into-pig for dinner, would it still count as cannibalism?

"Well, with a year-long delay I am finally on my soul-searching, life-changing, very educational and important journey around the wilds," she explained in a solemn voice, but soon that oh-so-serious look gave way to a cheerful grin. "So far, I met a fairy-princess and a boy that I threatened to turn into a stick for kids to play with," she told. "And, what do you plan to do with that potion of yours? I don't think you need anything to stay young for eternity. You look just as awful now as you did in your youth - so no need to spoil the effect," she said cheekily. "Otherwise the hag-clan might start rumours that you want to fairy-up yourself and that might damage your reputation in this leg of the woods," she finished. 

Hearing about Dwin’s adventures made Towhee suddenly long to start traveling again. The season was ripe for it, though she was still reluctant to uproot from the copse. Anyway, neither her daughter nor Njord had lodged any complaints about her occasional forays, nor did she think they would even if they became more frequent and far-fetched.

She couldn’t afford to dwell on these matters right now, not if she didn’t want to miss any of the many words leaving her young friend’s lips. Once she got past the slight twinge of pining, Towhee’s orange eyes danced in amusement at hearing these 10,000-foot views of Ceridwen’s misadventures.

Oh, why, thank you, she replied to the remarks about her appearance. Fluttering her eyelashes, Towhee added, I’m actually collecting them for my grandchildren. They’re so cute, it hurts me to look at them, so I’m hoping to turn them into salamanders. If I fail to find all the proper ingredients, I at least want to take home a couple of frogs—toads? Is there a difference?—for them.

Insincere though she was about brewing any potions or casting any spells, she was genuinely interested in finding souvenirs for the beloved bairns. She raised her eyebrows and motioned at her companion, her way of asking, Want to join me?

Right after they fell into step, Towhee quite abruptly recalled their immediately previous encounter and blurted, Hey, I’m sorry about the last time I saw you. I had exactly one thing on my mind at the time. If it makes you feel any better, I barely got laid. But I did get pregnant. Just to lose it. Twice. I might’ve nearly died, she shared cavalierly.

"When was the last time?" Dwin tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow, trying to recall, what their last meeting had been about and could not for the world bring the details back. It was a true shame - here was Towhee, the old hag, who the young wolf was sure had never ever apologized for anything in her life - asking for forgiveness now. She was tempted to tease her about this and mention her own lack of any memories about the incident. But the part about miscarriage sobered her up and her expression turned serious. 

"Well, you did not do anything that would put shame to hag's name," she told her with a soft gaze. She wondered, if she should tell she was sorry for Towhee's loss, but in her mind this old wise bird did not seem as someone, who needed anyone's pity about shit that happened in life. Instead she said: "I am glad that you are okay now and I hope that you will stay that way for years to come. Hags are a rare breed in this world and each and every one of them are unique. A loss of one is felt by all," she smiled at her.

Of course, besides Towhee Dwin had yet to meet another hag, but here - in the swamp, among the chorus of love-crazed frogs it was so easy to imagine that there was a network of them in the world. Salt of the Earth. Keeping world in the balance by adding some pepper here and pinch of sugar there. "You have still generations of kids to scare into obedience. So - don't you go anywhere, promise?" she leaned slightly to bump her shoulder against Towhee's in a friendly and affectionate manner.

She took Ceridwen’s forgetfulness as a ploy designed to let her off the hook. The corner of her mouth lifted, glad her sin of rude randiness wouldn’t be held against her. Towhee was a little touched by the soft expression the younger witch wore as she offered well wishes in place of condolences, then urged Towhee not to go anywhere.

I plan to be around for a long time to come, she concurred, although when that day comes—since it comes for us all—it would tickle me if you were to steal one of my teeth or toe bones or something, and carry it with you somehow, Towhee mused, snickering at the thought.

She laughed a little harder at the appalled look on Meerkat’s face should a young stranger demand she be allowed to dismember her dead mother’s body. It probably couldn’t happen for all sorts of logistical reasons, though Towhee decided right then and there she should sit down both her older daughters and let them know if she had any real preferences for her remains.

Blinking away that morbid thought, Towhee said, I’m definitely okay now. How about you? It sounds like you’ve kept busy adventuring. Tell me more about that. And what’s next on your agenda?

There was a weeping willow tree ahead, growing out of a small mound of grass-covered earth. Wordlessly, Towhee pointed at it, then gave her companion a questioning look. Would she like to park beneath it for a bit while they caught up?

"Don't worry - I will come for your corpse, wear your skin as a cape and your bones and teeth as necklace. And... I will speak to your skull and summon you on full-moon nights," Dwin shot Towhee a devilish grin and from her tone alone it was not clear, whether she was joking or not. The swamp probably had some sort of magical aura about it, because for a moment there the idea of desecrating the old hag's grave was not a tabu, but a "mhm... why not? For the fun of it?"

"Adventuring? Yeah... well, no, not really. I enjoyed a long, boring and peaceful winter, because the kids had all grown up and either left the pack or knew to leave me alone," Dwin summed up her life during the bleak, cold and sunless months, where one day had been like the other and it had felt as if that season was never ever going to end. "And I happened to leave just before being roped in another summer of baby-sitting and suffering from sharp teeth and bad manners," she continued. She did not know, if anyone in Brecheliant was planning to have kids (and she did not know that Dee had been pregnant), but she would rather find out and congratulate them later in the year. 

"Kids are simply not my thing," she finished. "I admire you and my mom and any woman, who goes into this willingly, but I never ever want this for myself," she told. "And... don't tell me that I will change my mind one day or that I will meet the one and whatnot," she said half-jokingly, but there was an underlying plea not to play the "I am older and I know better" card. 

Hey, if memory serves, Towhee said, I was the one who told you there’s so much more to life than getting hitched—and having kids too, for that matter. You’ve been pretty consistent in your distaste for them, so I definitely respect your take. You know yourself best.

She took a moment to entertain herself with the mental images Ceridwen had painted of her postmortem. Maybe it was morbid to take pleasure in said imagery, though as Towhee grew older, she didn’t balk at the thought of dying. Everyone did it, right? She didn’t think she’d ever really feared it, though she’d resisted it just like any good warrior mother. She wasn’t ready to embrace it wholesale just yet, but how much longer did she want to stay on this spinning carousel, anyway?

Do you consider yourself close to anyone? Towhee found herself asking, apropos of nothing. I travel a lot too but I have ties seemingly everywhere I go. It sounds nice, in theory, not having so many strings attached. But do you ever get lonely?