Oh, my litttle flashlight

Dante seemed to accept the possible life as a frog with ease. He was right - food was abundant, you slept through the cold months, you hadn't much worries about with whom you mated, who you cheated or even bother, what became of the kids. A frog could sit on the bank of a pond - the surface of the water covered with millions of spawn - clap itself on the back for a job well done and hop away. When he asked, if she could keep harm away from him, she pondered briefly and then answered: "Nope. Sorry - I wouldn't be able to tell you apart from other frogs. I might as well eat you."

Come to think of it, how many cursed princes never met their rescuers and were eaten by accident. That one frog-prince of the fairy-tale had been super lucky to end up, where he had ended up. Osprey chuckled, when Dante got in the game so far as to getting ready to getting cursed. He was adorable in a way, plus, it was nice to see him leaving all the serious business aside. She liked him a lot better this way. "You are sure you want to be a frog?" Osprey got to her feet too and stretched, preparing to do the magic. "The pond is round, you wake to a croaking sound, white is the fog and you wake up as a frog," she canted a silly verse. While coming up with stories was her field, she sucked at poetry.