gold bulged from the socket. She had a large black mole on her cheek, and her toothless mouth seemed to collapse in on itself. Surprisingly her words were clear when she spoke. "I can rest, Dyspepsia. It was peaceful here until you came."
I needed to talk to these women and ask if they could help me. Jumping to the ground, I thought for a moment and recited my usual spell to become human. As I shot up to my normal height, everything seemed smaller and less intimidating. My skin felt stretched and pulled, prickling all over when my feathers disappeared. I sighed with relief.
Smoothing my hair with one hand, I knocked on the door with the other. A moment later it opened with a bang. It was darker inside, lit only by the fire in the fireplace and the pale light coming through the window. After a drizzling start, it was raining in earnest now.
"Would you look at that, Oculura," said the gray-haired witch from where she still sat by the window. "We finally have company."
"You were the bird on the windowsill, weren't you?" Oculura asked, motioning me into the room.
I nodded. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop ...," I began, stepping into the cottage.
"Why not?" said Dyspepsia. "Listening in on conversations is often the only way to learn anything. I used to turn myself into a fly for that very reason."
"Until that man swatted you," said Oculura.
"He missed, which was a good thing for him. I would have been furious if his aim had been better."
"You would have been squashed if his aim had been better and in no shape to do anything about it."
"Hmph!" said Dyspepsia.
While the two women argued, I glanced around the room. It was neater than it had been before; the cobwebs and the old bird skeletons were gone, and the bat droppings had been scrubbed from the table and floor, which might have been why the room smelled so much better.
I looked toward the shelf where the books had rested. The dust was gone, and I was dismayed to see that the books were also missing. I was going to ask about them when Oculura turned to me, looking me up and down the way one might inspect a horse that was for sale. I half expected her to demand to see my teeth, but instead she said, "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"
I nodded. "We met at the magic marketplace. You gave us some magic beans."
"Hmm." Turning to her jar, the old woman selected two more eyes, popped out the ones in her head and stuck in the new ones. She blinked, then looked at me again. "That's better," she said. "I remember you now. You were with that nice young man. You told me about my jar of eyeballs."
I nodded again, unable to look away from her face. I could swear that the black mole that had been on her cheek was crawling onto her chin.
"So," she said. "How were the beans? Did they do what you needed them to?"
"Yes," I said, dragging my eyes from her chin. "They worked quite well, thank you."
"And the young man? Is he still as handsome?" Oculura asked, looking through her eyelashes coyly.
I couldn't help it—my eyes flicked back to her chin. "He's the same as ever."
Oculura frowned. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to stare?"
I could feel my face turning red. "I'm sorry, but your mole—"
"It's not a mole; it's a facial tick. I got it the first night I slept on that lousy bed," she said, pointing at the sagging mattress in the back of the room. The old witch tapped the tick with her finger, but made no move to dislodge the little black insect. "I like it now. It's grown on me—kind of like a beauty mark, don't you think?"
"Very nice," I said, trying not to grimace.
"Why are you here?" demanded Dyspepsia. "I know you didn't come just to get beauty tips from my sister."
"I'm trying to find a way to end a curse put on my family. I was hoping I could look at the books that used to be on that shelf."
"You can. I put them in the trunk with my own
books. You can look at those, too. Mind you, I wouldn't let just anyone look at them, but you told me about this
I needed to talk to these women and ask if they could help me. Jumping to the ground, I thought for a moment and recited my usual spell to become human. As I shot up to my normal height, everything seemed smaller and less intimidating. My skin felt stretched and pulled, prickling all over when my feathers disappeared. I sighed with relief.
Smoothing my hair with one hand, I knocked on the door with the other. A moment later it opened with a bang. It was darker inside, lit only by the fire in the fireplace and the pale light coming through the window. After a drizzling start, it was raining in earnest now.
"Would you look at that, Oculura," said the gray-haired witch from where she still sat by the window. "We finally have company."
"You were the bird on the windowsill, weren't you?" Oculura asked, motioning me into the room.
I nodded. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop ...," I began, stepping into the cottage.
"Why not?" said Dyspepsia. "Listening in on conversations is often the only way to learn anything. I used to turn myself into a fly for that very reason."
"Until that man swatted you," said Oculura.
"He missed, which was a good thing for him. I would have been furious if his aim had been better."
"You would have been squashed if his aim had been better and in no shape to do anything about it."
"Hmph!" said Dyspepsia.
While the two women argued, I glanced around the room. It was neater than it had been before; the cobwebs and the old bird skeletons were gone, and the bat droppings had been scrubbed from the table and floor, which might have been why the room smelled so much better.
I looked toward the shelf where the books had rested. The dust was gone, and I was dismayed to see that the books were also missing. I was going to ask about them when Oculura turned to me, looking me up and down the way one might inspect a horse that was for sale. I half expected her to demand to see my teeth, but instead she said, "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"
I nodded. "We met at the magic marketplace. You gave us some magic beans."
"Hmm." Turning to her jar, the old woman selected two more eyes, popped out the ones in her head and stuck in the new ones. She blinked, then looked at me again. "That's better," she said. "I remember you now. You were with that nice young man. You told me about my jar of eyeballs."
I nodded again, unable to look away from her face. I could swear that the black mole that had been on her cheek was crawling onto her chin.
"So," she said. "How were the beans? Did they do what you needed them to?"
"Yes," I said, dragging my eyes from her chin. "They worked quite well, thank you."
"And the young man? Is he still as handsome?" Oculura asked, looking through her eyelashes coyly.
I couldn't help it—my eyes flicked back to her chin. "He's the same as ever."
Oculura frowned. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to stare?"
I could feel my face turning red. "I'm sorry, but your mole—"
"It's not a mole; it's a facial tick. I got it the first night I slept on that lousy bed," she said, pointing at the sagging mattress in the back of the room. The old witch tapped the tick with her finger, but made no move to dislodge the little black insect. "I like it now. It's grown on me—kind of like a beauty mark, don't you think?"
"Very nice," I said, trying not to grimace.
"Why are you here?" demanded Dyspepsia. "I know you didn't come just to get beauty tips from my sister."
"I'm trying to find a way to end a curse put on my family. I was hoping I could look at the books that used to be on that shelf."
"You can. I put them in the trunk with my own
books. You can look at those, too. Mind you, I wouldn't let just anyone look at them, but you told me about this
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