“Ah, yes,” said the toad. “You’ve got Nac Mac Feegles!”
“It snowed, and then it hadn’t! I was chased by a horseman with no head! And one of the…what did you say they were?”
“Nac Mac Feegles,” said the toad. “Also known as pictsies. They call themselves the Wee Free Men.”
“Well, one of them head-butted the horse! It fell over! It was a huge horse, too!”
“Ah, that sounds like a Feegle,” said the toad.
“I gave them some milk and they tipped it over!”
“You gave the Nac Mac Feegle milk?”
“Well, you said they’re pixies!”
“Not pixies, pictsies. They certainly don’t drink milk!”
“Are they from the same place as Jenny?” Tiffany demanded.
“No. They’re rebels,” said toad.
“Rebels? Against who?”
“Everyone. Anything,” said the toad. “Now pick me up.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a woman at the well over there giving you a funny look. Put me in your apron pocket, for goodness’ sake.”
Tiffany snatched up the toad and smiled at the woman. “I’m making a collection of pressed toads,” she said.
“That’s nice, dear,” said the woman, and hurried away.
“That wasn’t very funny,” said the toad from her apron.
“People don’t listen anyway,” said Tiffany.
She sat down under a tree and took the toad out of her pocket.
“The Feegles tried to steal some of our eggs and one of our sheep,” she said. “But I got them back.”
“You got something back from the Nac Mac Feegle?” said the toad. “Were they ill?”
“No. They were a bit…well, sweet, actually. They even did the chores for me.”
“The Feegle did chores?” said the toad. “They never do chores! They’re not helpful at all!”
“And then there was the headless horseman!” said Tiffany. “He had no head!”
“Well, that is the major job qualification,” said the toad.
“What’s going on, toad?” said Tiffany. “Is it the Feegles who are invading?”
The toad looked a bit shifty. “Miss Tick doesn’t really want you to handle this,” it said. “She’ll be back soon with help—”
“Is she going to be in time?” Tiffany demanded.
“I don’t know. Probably. But you shouldn’t—”