"Well,
there's some hope for you yet." The frog let out a croaky chuckle. "You're
right, he did steal it. He's selling the boys as slaves, at the fair in
Blintytown tomorrow. I heard him promising them to a one-eyed man who stopped
here three days ago."
"You
have to do something. That's unfair. This is their home, not his."
"What
can I do? Besides, you're the only person here who can hear me."
"What
can I do?" she echoed, only half-heartedly mocking him. "I'm a
stranger. People may be kind to the elderly and frail, but they don't listen to
them. Especially not strangers. I'm quite tired of being laughed at and called
mad."
"Forewarned is forearmed." He hopped away while Merrigan tried to decide if she should kick him, or even risk warts by picking him up and flinging him away.
She fumed, chewing on his words, until the blacksmith walked away at noontime to get his meal. The boys were left to tend the forge, and he left nothing for them to eat. That just added fuel to the fire inside her. Ordinarily, Merrigan believed in letting peasants cheat and trick and steal from each other and reduce their numbers so their betters didn't have to look after them. However, those boys looked so helpless, and so young, and there was just something appealing about them, under their dirt and bruises. Forewarned? Would it be enough to warn them?
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