Tender Chest was feeling pain. It was intermittent and had concentrated at the center of his ribs, but had since spread up and down his collarbone and his abdomen. In fact, his stomach was feeling unsettled from time to time, ranging from an anxious flutter to a squeezing ache. It had gotten so bad since he had met that beautiful doe with the light eyes that stood out from her shadowed forehead, that he had wondered if his mysterious ailment would be ailing her too. They had been in very, very close proximity and he couldn't help but worry about her alongside himself.To the Legendary swamp-witch he went. He had heard this one was a dab hoof with herbs and such. Perhaps she would be able to settle the wide-ranging discomfort he was suffering from. Especially when he thought about her. Very mysterious.
Her hovel seemed to be shrouded in mist, especially at this time of day. With darkness descending, he could barely see.
He most definitely did not see the caiman floating past.
That annoyed the caiman. It floated past again, but Tender Chest seemed to be too absorbed by his squinting into the distance.
It started to crawl towards him on little legs, emerging from deeper waters with splishy-splash noises. When he looked down, it was too late - the caiman was close enough to make a passing bite at his hoof.
Tender Chest screamed, which seemed to please the caiman, who smiled a wider toothy smile and chomped at a leg.
"Oh no," he cried, falling to his knobby ungulate knees, "oh what will become of me? What will become of her?"
Then he started to convulse because his chest and abdomen had started to seize up uncontrollably.
The caiman hesitantly let go, toddling a little closer to peer at him with beady eyes.
He said, mildly teary, "I hope she'll be all right.
"Everything just hurts so much when I think about her."
The beady caiman eyes seemed to roll up.
"If I die," he said bravely to the caiman, "I hope she knows I really liked her."
"Oh for Motherfather's sake," the caiman said, turning into a supremely annoyed mare, "you're not going to die."
He watched her transformation, eyes wide, and opined, "maybe I already have."
"Ughhhhhhhh" she snapped, her jaw unhinged, "you're just lovesick, you absolute idiot."
There was a long silence of him lying on the ground in the muck. He breathed a few bubbles into dirty, shallow swamp water.
"Oh.
"Then I guess she should be feeling all right," he rolled over, "that's...that's good."
"I mean, she's got her own pains to worry about, I'm sure," Bitter End said dismissively, "she's pregnant."
Cue more convulsion.
"WHAT"
After a while, he scrambled up, heaving from his chest tightness/stomach butterflies.
"I can't die then, I'd like to see my children."
"Good thing you weren't in any danger," she said with a dryness to rival the desert.
"What if..." he trailed off, mildly despairing, "what if they're like me?"
"Stupid?" she questioned, "well, that's too bad."
He looked up into her very brightly glowing eyes.
"I hope they're nice and normal and happy," he rambled.
"Okay, I'll take that down."
Bitter End told the Motherfather that, with minimal complaint, because it was her penance for being ornery.
"And healthy?"
"Too late," she snapped, "now go."
"Thank you, witch of the marsh," he said admiringly, scrambling up to leave.
"She's not here right now," she said airily, "the witch is in another wetland."
END