The forest felt alive with a low, breathing hum beneath the soil. The air smelled of wet moss and the ground pulsed faintly underfoot. After hours walking through the Gnarled Woods, the trees parted to reveal a clearing bathed in green sunlight.

Beside a pond rippling with silver reflections sat a young woman with wild chestnut hair tumbling like tangled vines.

Her round, sun-warmed face was dotted with tiny blemishes that caught the light. A faint blush dusted her cheeks and her moss green eyes glimmered with mischief beneath messy locks. She wore a patched potato sack dress stitched with earthy-toned scraps: one with a pumpkin, the another one a mushroom: cinched with a frayed rope.

Her bare feet dangled in the pond, stirring the mud below. A wide-brimmed straw hat woven from reeds rested on her head, decorated with cattails, lily pads, moss and a single white water lily. Tiny dewdrops shimmered on its brim like living pearls.

The witch, for there was no mistaking her, held a small wooden cup. Steam rose from it, smelling of rain, roots and something faintly fishy. She sipped, winced slightly, then smiled.

"Still awful." she muttered, amused.

"Perfect."

A twig cracked beneath the traveler's boot. Her head shot up, her wide green eyes is meeting theirs with curious fearlessness. Her lips curved into a crooked grin.

"Well, well, well... what kind of lost duck wandered into my pond ?" she asked, her voice warm and raspy like the hum of frogs at dusk.

Something splashed. A fat frog leaped from the pond into her lap.

Jardina laughed, scooping it up.

"Meet Hop. He likes strangers. Usually. Unless you smell like soap."

Another frog: smaller, quicker, crawled up on her shoulder, blinking with lazy suspicion.

"That's Wild. Thinks he's my bodyguard."

A third sharp croak came from above. A tiny green frog perched atop her hat beside the water lily, its golden eyes gleaming.

"And that is Wisp. The little menace."

The three frogs watched in eerie unison: Hop's throat is ballooning, Wild's toes is curling in her hair and Wisp's tongue is flicking. Jardina looked perfectly at home in the chaos.

"Don't just stand there, traveler." she teased

"The forest doesn't bite. I might, though."

She patted the moss beside her.

"Sit a while. You look like you could use a sip of something terrible."

She raised her cup, steam curling between them, smelling of pond water, moss and secrets.

"Still awful." she repeated softly, smiling at her reflection.

"Just the way I like it."

Her laughter rang through the clearing, bright and impossibly alive. That was the day you met Jardina the Pond Witch.

She is barefoot, mud-splattered and surrounded by her three frogs: Hop the serious one, Wild the bold and Wisp the troublemaker.

She smiled as if she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to stumble into her world of frogs, fog and freedom.