Mortimer felt the dizziness groing even more; he felt so desoriented that he couldn't barey move. He was struck by a fever wave and felt every inch of him sweating heavily; as he breathed like a tired dog he ehard the witch laughing hysterically and everything around him spinning round and round like a carroussel. He decided to turn his eyes for a moment. Things became cozier, his fever passed and everything around him was soft with a wollen touch.
"Where am I" he thought to himself in the pitch back. Whatever surrounded him moved and he fet as if being picked up from the round, he slid on the fabric and a green circle appeared. It took him sometime to understad it was the grass and he was slipping trough the sleeve of his shirt and jacket. He landed and his soft body softned the fall. Wait a moment! His soft body?? Mortimer looked down to the grass and noticed two webbed green and warthy frog hands.
"Ribbit!"
He was a frog. He was a frog, he couldn't believe it. He tried to stand on his feet but failed. He ordered his legs to give a cordial, elegant step but instead he leaped forward and landed perfectly and smoothly on his new members.
"Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit!" this was all he heard his throat making, althouhg he was apnicking in his mind. How was that possible.
He looked up and the witch was shadowing him. Everything was a changed prespective, the trees were so tall, the horse was a giant...and he swear he was listening to something buzz somehwere.
She waved his fingers and he was picked up from the ground by magic.
"Oh, boy, another frog for the pond. Let's see if you actually deserve of a Prince lifetime or not!"
She opened her bag and ordered him to fall in there.
He couldn't still believe it. Him, Mortimer Archibald Henry Thomas was a green, moist, warthy fly eating hopping creature. It had to be a dream.