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Miscalculation (narrative/open)
Well this was just fantastic. Fan. Tastic.
Robin was thoroughly put out. With himself. He knew better, he truly did. In fact, it was a standing rule with himself: no long trips or outings when it was close to the new and full moons. He had a calendar made up with those dates specifically outlined so he would not make such mistakes as this.
Well. This was not so much a mistake as a serious misjudgement on his part. He should have taken his own horse on this trip. But he’d not anticipated the delays along the way, and he was near enough to home that he thought he could ride all day and make it at least to an area he knew well enough to know where to hide. Instead, the horse picked up a stone, causing him to have to slow their pace.
And once the full moon rose, once his transformation began, the animal had bolted. Robin hoped that he would be able to find the creature again, as the thought of it wandering about with its tack still on was bothering him. Had it been his own horse, he would have continued to head for the castle, clever beast that he was. But all of that was wishful thinking, because it did not change the fact that he was here, in an unfamiliar wood, and he was once again a frog.
Robin had not forgotten the lessons learned when this form was the one he had to live in every day. He was cautious. He was careful. And he made his way to as safe a spot as he could find, a half rotted log with a hollow just big enough to hide a little, frog-sized person. Then he settled in to wait for morning, and prayed that nothing would find and eat him between now and then.
Robin was thoroughly put out. With himself. He knew better, he truly did. In fact, it was a standing rule with himself: no long trips or outings when it was close to the new and full moons. He had a calendar made up with those dates specifically outlined so he would not make such mistakes as this.
Well. This was not so much a mistake as a serious misjudgement on his part. He should have taken his own horse on this trip. But he’d not anticipated the delays along the way, and he was near enough to home that he thought he could ride all day and make it at least to an area he knew well enough to know where to hide. Instead, the horse picked up a stone, causing him to have to slow their pace.
And once the full moon rose, once his transformation began, the animal had bolted. Robin hoped that he would be able to find the creature again, as the thought of it wandering about with its tack still on was bothering him. Had it been his own horse, he would have continued to head for the castle, clever beast that he was. But all of that was wishful thinking, because it did not change the fact that he was here, in an unfamiliar wood, and he was once again a frog.
Robin had not forgotten the lessons learned when this form was the one he had to live in every day. He was cautious. He was careful. And he made his way to as safe a spot as he could find, a half rotted log with a hollow just big enough to hide a little, frog-sized person. Then he settled in to wait for morning, and prayed that nothing would find and eat him between now and then.