doorknocker and the toad moved . Wolf Boy pulled his hand back as if he had been bitten. The toad was real. It was squatting on the doorknocker, its dark little amphibian eyes staring at him. Wolf Boy loathed slimy things—which was probably the reason he did not like much of Aunt Zelda’s cooking—but he knew he would have to touch the toad doorknocker, and that that would probably not be the worst thing he would have to touch. Gritting his teeth, he reached for the toad once more. The toad puffed itself up to twice its size so that it looked like a small, toad-shaped balloon. It began to hiss, but this time Wolf Boy did not draw back. As his hand began to close over the toad, the creature stopped hissing and shrank back to its normal size—there was something Darke about the grubby hand, scarred from the Tracker Ball, that the toad recognized.
Taking Wolf Boy by surprise, the toad slipped from under his hand and hopped off the doorknocker. It lifted it up and let it fall with a resounding bang . Then the toad resumed its placeon the knocker and closed its eyes.
Wolf Boy was prepared to wait, but he did not have to wait long. Soon he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on bare boards coming toward him, and a moment later the door was wrenched open. A young woman dressed in raggedy, stained black Coven robes peered out. She had a huge pink towel wrapped around her head and big, staring blue eyes. She very nearly snapped, “Yeah?” as usual, but then she remembered that it was the Darke Toad that had knocked. Taking care to keep her towel balanced, she stood up straight and said in her formal witch voice—which was bizarrely squeaky and shot up at the end of the sentence—“What be your business?”
Wolf Boy’s mind went blank. The taste of dried cabbage leaves and crushed beetle filled his mouth once more. What was it he had to say? He couldn’t remember . He stared at the young woman. She didn’t look too scary; she had big blue eyes and a squashy-looking nose. In fact, she almost seemed nice—though there was something peculiar about her, something that he couldn’t quite figure out. Oh! There was a weird, bristly gray flap thingy escaping from underneath the towel—what was that ?
The young witch, whose name was Dorinda, began to close the door.
At last Wolf Boy remembered what he had to say. “I have come to feed the Grim,” he said.
“What?” said Dorinda. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” And then she remembered what she was supposed to say. She readjusted her towel once more and resumed her squeaky voice. “So be it,” she said. “Enter, GrimFeeder.”
Unfortunately he was not kidding, thought Wolf Boy, as he stepped into the House of the Port Witch Coven and the door began to close behind him. He wished he were. There was nothing he would like better right then than to step back into the sunny street and run all the way home to the marshes, where he belonged. The thought of the marshes made Wolf Boy remember that being in this ghastly place actually had something very important to do with the marshes and all the things he loved there. And so, as he followed Dorinda down the dark passageway, deep into the House of the Port Witch Coven, he kept that in mind. He was determined to do what he had come to do—tentacles and all.
The passageway was pitch-black and treacherous. Wolf Boy followed the rustling sound of Dorinda’s robes as they swept along the rough floor. Just in time he sidestepped a gaping hole from which a foul smell rose, only to be assailed by a suddenonslaught of Bothers—one of them very prickly. Frantically Wolf Boy batted the Bothers away, to the accompaniment of Dorinda’s giggles. But he was not Bothered again as word of the touch of the Darke Toad quickly spread through the Bother community, and Wolf Boy was left at a respectful distance.
Wolf Boy followed Dorinda deeper into the house. At last they came to a tattered black curtain hanging in front of a door.
Taking Wolf Boy by surprise, the toad slipped from under his hand and hopped off the doorknocker. It lifted it up and let it fall with a resounding bang . Then the toad resumed its placeon the knocker and closed its eyes.
Wolf Boy was prepared to wait, but he did not have to wait long. Soon he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on bare boards coming toward him, and a moment later the door was wrenched open. A young woman dressed in raggedy, stained black Coven robes peered out. She had a huge pink towel wrapped around her head and big, staring blue eyes. She very nearly snapped, “Yeah?” as usual, but then she remembered that it was the Darke Toad that had knocked. Taking care to keep her towel balanced, she stood up straight and said in her formal witch voice—which was bizarrely squeaky and shot up at the end of the sentence—“What be your business?”
Wolf Boy’s mind went blank. The taste of dried cabbage leaves and crushed beetle filled his mouth once more. What was it he had to say? He couldn’t remember . He stared at the young woman. She didn’t look too scary; she had big blue eyes and a squashy-looking nose. In fact, she almost seemed nice—though there was something peculiar about her, something that he couldn’t quite figure out. Oh! There was a weird, bristly gray flap thingy escaping from underneath the towel—what was that ?
The young witch, whose name was Dorinda, began to close the door.
At last Wolf Boy remembered what he had to say. “I have come to feed the Grim,” he said.
“What?” said Dorinda. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” And then she remembered what she was supposed to say. She readjusted her towel once more and resumed her squeaky voice. “So be it,” she said. “Enter, GrimFeeder.”
Unfortunately he was not kidding, thought Wolf Boy, as he stepped into the House of the Port Witch Coven and the door began to close behind him. He wished he were. There was nothing he would like better right then than to step back into the sunny street and run all the way home to the marshes, where he belonged. The thought of the marshes made Wolf Boy remember that being in this ghastly place actually had something very important to do with the marshes and all the things he loved there. And so, as he followed Dorinda down the dark passageway, deep into the House of the Port Witch Coven, he kept that in mind. He was determined to do what he had come to do—tentacles and all.
The passageway was pitch-black and treacherous. Wolf Boy followed the rustling sound of Dorinda’s robes as they swept along the rough floor. Just in time he sidestepped a gaping hole from which a foul smell rose, only to be assailed by a suddenonslaught of Bothers—one of them very prickly. Frantically Wolf Boy batted the Bothers away, to the accompaniment of Dorinda’s giggles. But he was not Bothered again as word of the touch of the Darke Toad quickly spread through the Bother community, and Wolf Boy was left at a respectful distance.
Wolf Boy followed Dorinda deeper into the house. At last they came to a tattered black curtain hanging in front of a door.
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