His eyes he knew were widened,
His neck hairs stood up straight,
His arms had turned to foreign things,
Nothing more than warm dead weight.
The snores they did continue,
With a gulp he built up courage,
And turned to scope and see.
Behind him lay a huddled mass,
At the edge of his lantern’s light,
It rose and fell with every breath,
While the magician’s was caught in fright.
He’d followed the tracks expertly,
Identified the cloven toes,
He’d followed them through Brush Hollow Bog
To this cave, where he stood now froze.
This was no boar that slumbered,
This was not in the plan,
But the wizard knew from the journal
That the sleeper was a man.
In his paralysis he pondered,
Compared both man and hog,
Why he needed the acorn,
Why he was in this bog.
But the answer was in the journal,
And it came so suddenly,
That the wizard knew he must help him,
Help set this poor man free.
Another wizard had cursed him,
Out of jealously or spite,
And now the man was doomed to turn
A hog when day turned night.