Morton limped into the sunlit shop. He had waited nearly ten minutes outside for somebody to come and open the door. There were very few customers in this rustic little store, and the inventory was all either in tall bins, scattered about the store, or hanging on the walls- the more decorative, expensive pieces- Morton thought to himself.
Vanessa, though not acquainted yet with Morton, was the shopkeep of the day. She sat behind the counter mostly ignoring the customers- hoping that the customers would mostly ignore her. She licked an envelope and set it aside. And then a stamp. And then the tip of a pen, but she didn’t touch the tip to any paper afterwards. She then set about to licking a coin that was on the counter. Her tongue darted in and out, quickly tasting little morsels.
Morton caught sight of her.

“Now hear me, there, girl. I don’t take kindly to mockery.”
She looked up at Morton, her face flushed and realized quickly what it looked like she had been doing.
“No, No. I’m so sorry sir — “
“I am a citizen and I have the right to shop here, and just because you may not be used to my kind-”
“Sir, no, I love frogs. I’m so sorry. I just- I have a problem.”
“Well I’ll say you do! I’ve been five minutes in this store — and ten outside waiting for the door to open because you don’t have a frog door — and I have yet to be helped!”
“Please, sir. I can help you now. We don’t have much in your size out front, but let me check in the back.”

Vanessa turned around, avoiding the stares of the few other customers in the store. Her cheeks burned hot. She could not stop replaying the events which had just transpired over and over again in her head. The frog out front (whom she still didn’t know was named Morton) stood about six inches tall and was dressed very sharply in some corduroy pants, and a checkered button-up shirt. His long, brown leather oxfords hid his huge, webbed feet. She shuffled around in a shoe box, finding their best frog stock. She gathered herself, before heading back out.
“Here you are Mr…”
“Webdale. Morton is fine.”
“Well, Morton. Mr. Webdale. This is some of our finest stock.”
She laid out the walking sticks in front of him on the floor. He pondered for quite a while, stroking his belly with one webbed hand.
“Do you have anything a bit more…durable?” He asked, “I’m about to embark on a long journey, and I’m afraid I need something quite a bit more rugged than these.”
“I can assure you these are of the highest quality.”
“But they will undoubtedly get ruined.” Morton said, “I need no gems or fancy inlays where I am headed.”
Vanessa started at him as he spoke, her compulsion rising once more, his sleek skin enticing her. She stood up from her kneeling position and ran to the back.

“Quite odd, indeed.” Scoffed Morton. He turned around and began waiting for the door to open once more.

Vanessa, meanwhile, was in the back getting her mind straight.
She just had. to. taste. him.
Just one little lick, that’s all it would take. She grabbed the most rugged looking stick and went back out. Vanessa saw Morton standing by the front door, waiting to leave.

“Wait, Mr. Morton.”
“It’s Mr. Webdale.”
“Sorry- Mr. Webdale- please don’t leave just yet. I have just the thing for you.”
Morton sighed heavily and walked back to the array of walking sticks on the floor.
The bell dinged at the door as the other customers left, muttering to each other about the terrible service and the odd girl.
Morton looked back to the sticks, wishing he hadn’t just missed his chance to leave quietly. Vanessa laid out the rustic looking walking stick. Hard wood, with knots and twists, covered in a thick sheen of stain. Morton was shocked. It was both practical and beautiful. Perfect, actually.
“I’ll take it, Miss.”

As she rang him out, she felt her compulsion rise again.
“So, Mr. Webdale, what’s this journey you’re going on?”
Morton considered for a moment whether he should say. “Well, it’s quite personal. But, I wish to find my first pond. My tadpole pond.”
“Oh, wow.” Vanessa exclaimed, “Do you know where it is?”
“My research suggests it is somewhere in the northern region of Castor County.”
Vanessa was shocked, “And you’re going to walk there? That’s so far!”
“Well I can’t very well drive a carriage, now can I?” Morton said indignantly.
“No…I guess not.” Vanessa said, “…But I could drive one for you.”
Morton looked at Vanessa, “And you have your own carriage, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” Vanessa thought, considering she made commission she doubted she could ever afford that.
Morton took his stick, now paid for, and headed towards the door. “Will you open this for me?”
“I know someone who would lend us theirs.”
“That’s quite alright, really. The door please, Miss.”
“But it will save you so much time on your trip. Weeks.”
Morton considered her proposal.
“And if I say yes? What’s in it for you?”
Vanessa swallowed and closed her eyes. She considered telling him the truth. He already saw glimpses of her deepest shame. But she knew she couldn’t say it. He would never agree.
“I get to see the world a bit more! I’ve never been out of this town. And I can collect wood for my boss.”

Morton reluctantly agreed.