Always Be Appreciative of Opposable Thumbs

Chapter Thirty-Three: Arachnophobia

 Willow tried to stand, but it was like her arms and legs had been tied down by invisible threads. In her panic, she toppled to the ground, losing her breath for a moment. And then she couldn't seem to get it back. The unseen threads around her body had drawn tighter so that she could only manage tiny gasps for air.

Missy approached her slowly, practically dancing on her toes as she hummed to herself. "This little duck went swimming one day, over the hills and far away. Mother duck said, 'Come quack quack quack,'" she crouched beside Willow and smirked, "but no little ducks came back back back."

Still gasping for breath, Willow peered up at her through her tousled bangs and whispered, "I'm a goose, not a duck."

With a snarl, Missy stood and started to circle her. "Perhaps you'll like this one better. It's one of my personal favorites." Clearing her throat, she began another silly rhyme. "Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along came a Spider who sat down beside her—"

A strange sensation crawled up Willow's neck, sending goose pimples down her arms. This time, though, it wasn't sticky. It was almost soft, like velvet.

Missy leaned over her shoulder and whispered, "And frightened Miss Muffet away."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Willow tried not to scream. She had to concentrate on not exhaling too hard. Each time she did, the invisible threads got tighter so that every breath became more difficult.

"Where were you running to, Little Miss Goose?" asked Missy.

Willow swallowed and tried to use as few words as possible to save her breath. "Outside."

"Why would you ever need to go outside?"

"Something's not right."

"Not right?" Missy laughed and rose to her feet, circling back to face Willow once more. "What could not be right about a place where all your wishes come true?"

"Wishes aren't easy."

"Says who?"

Refusing to waste any more air, Willow closed her eyes again and focused on trying to break free from her tethers.

"I really don't see what the problem is here," Missy continued. "You're no longer a goose, your friend is no longer a dragon, your other friend has found his muse, and your little boyfriend—"

"Not real!" Willow snapped.

Missy raised her eyebrows at the interruption, but Willow didn't want to hear any more. She didn't want to be reminded that Hugo's affection had merely been the result of wishful thinking. The memory of his fingers brushing against her skin was still fresh in her mind. Even as it had been happening, she knew he was only doing it because that's what she had wished for. Because even more than she wanted to be human, she wanted to be with Hugo. But she didn't want it to happen because of some weird, magical town. She wanted it to happen because Hugo wanted it, too.

"Well, I can see there will be no talking sense into you," Missy said as she shook her head. "Shame. You seemed like such a sweet girl. But I suppose your time in Tuffet is over."

She reached her hand out towards Willow, and as she did, her arm transformed. It was no longer flesh and bone; it was long and thin and hairy.

Letting out a strangled cry, Willow thrashed against whatever was holding her down. And then there was a snap. And she was falling. Except she wasn't. Was she? How could she be falling? She was on the ground. But no, she wasn't. She was—

"Ouch," she winced as she came crashing down onto something hard.

Her arms were free. And so were her legs. Taking a deep breath—and swearing to herself that she'd never take breathing for granted again—she glanced around at her surroundings. She wasn't in Tuffet. She was back in the forest. There was the cart. And the strange purple fog, which she now realized was coming from the large, glowing mushrooms growing on the surrounding trees.