News like that was hard to ignore.

Though Mousey’s mother didn’t know it, she had just revealed to him that Nycht had been telling the truth. Only his father had ever called her Xandra, and that was the nickname Nycht had used.

He did his best to keep his mind off of that terrible revelation and on the journey in front of them. They still had a day’s walk until they were out of the Tembling Bog, and into the outskirts of the Toad King’s realm.

They’d traveled all night, which hadn’t helped to keep Mousey’s mind off of his encounter with the lieutenant.

The day was foggy and miserable. Nature itself seemed to match Mousey’s confusion and uncertainty.

Mousey thought about the dried mud on his clothes. And in his fur. And between his toes. He thought, then, about how good it was going to feel to take the time to really wash off. He was sure with all that swamp muck on him that he smelled putrid.

Lexi and Sir Ranae certainly did.

“Try to remember more pleasant smells,” Sopher whispered in his thoughts.

Mousey recalled the scent of peanut-butter spread across freshly-baked bread. Saliva gathered in his mouth, recalling the flavor whenever he bit into those tasty treats. He understood that the reason he’d eaten it so often was because so often it was all his mother could afford, but he never stopped loving it.

“Does anyone else smell peanut butter?” said Lexi.

Mousey chuckled. “Sorry. I was just thinking about home. I must have used magic without realizing it.”

“Please stop…” said Sir Ranae, holding his nostrils. “The stench is terrible!”

It was truly puzzling to Mousey how this frog could be so at home in a swamp but find the smell of peanut butter to be odious.

Sir Ranae held up his hand to stop the two mice, and then gestured to the ground before them. “We won’t be able to walk much further. The ground’s already getting too wet here, and up ahead lie deeper waters. Mousey, can you conjure that boat, like you did before?”

“Of course,” said Mousey. He stepped out to the edge of the water and pointed his stave. He thought back to the toy boat he’d owned a long time ago.

The toy boat his father had given him.

His paw tightened around his stave.

The boat appeared in the water, but its sails were black and leathery, with holes torn in them. The hull was full of holes, and Mousey watched the boat sink within seconds. The mud sucked down the remains.

Lexi stared at her son with confusion in her eyes. “Mousefred… what was that about? Why did you destroy your boat?”

“I…” Mousey paused for a moment, just staring back at her.

Sir Ranae approached. “What’s wrong?”

Mousey stared up at them, struggling to think of some explanation for what had just happened.

“The memory no longer brings you joy,” Sopher whispered in his mind. “So, you want to see it destroyed. That’s why it won’t work.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Mousey lied.

Lexi’s eyes narrowed to slits. It was the look she always gave him when she knew he was hiding something.

“Can you try it again?” Sir Ranae asked.

“Probably best if I don’t.” Mousey shook his head. “Umm… because, I don’t know what will happen. Maybe next time I try to summon a boat it will be full of pirates firing their cannons at us.”

Lexi raised an eyebrow. “That can happen?”

“I… don’t know,” said Mousey, scratching the back of his head. “I’m still learning how magic works.”

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“That’s fair,” said Lexi, giving a nod. She turned to Sir Ranae. “In that case, we need to get to work making a raft.”

“I know not how to make a raft,” croaked Sir Ranae. “I usually swim, but I know that swimming that far might be dangerous for the two of you.”

“I know how to make a raft,” said Lexi. “I just need you to gather

some reeds for me. We need materials.”

“That I can do, m’lady,” said Sir Ranae. He hopped off, to where there were more reeds beside the still waters and started gathering all he could. Lexi took the reeds as he handed them to her and started weaving and binding them together.

But Mousey’s ear twitched when he heard something drawing near. There was a new smell in the air. It was distant, but coming from all directions, including the water. “Mom! Sir Ranae!” he called out. “Something’s coming!”

Lexi and Sir Ranae stopped working on the raft immediately and looked off into the distance. Lexi’s whiskers twitched, and she said, “Toads… a lot of them… and geckos.”

“They’ve sent the cavalry for us!” Sir Ranae shouted. “Quick, let’s get this raft ready to go immediately!”

“I think boats are coming too,” said Mousey. “They have us surrounded.”

Sir Ranae bit his lip and whirled around, as if trying to spot the enemy before they drew near. “Mayhap… we can swim for it?”

“Don’t move!” came a croak from nearby. Mousey nearly jumped out of his fur when he saw the source. A body rose from the mud nearby, one so covered in mud and filth that Mousey and Lexi had neither spotted nor smelled him before. Mousey could only guess that this was a toad, one who held a blow-gun to his lips, prepared to fire poison darts at them should they attempt to run.

“Curse it all!” Sir Ranae yelled.

Lexi and Mousey raised their paws over their heads. Sir Ranae kicked at the mud, then did the same.

Within a few minutes, more toads arrived, each on the back of a riding gecko, and holding a spear in one hand. Boats pulled up behind them as well. Toads lined the decks of each boat, aiming blow guns at Mousey and his friends.

Mousey trembled as a large shape moved through the fog. He could only make out the silhouette at first, but soon this beast came into view. He was a toad, like the others, but he was at least three times the size of the rest. Upon his head sat a tiny crown, clearly meant for someone far smaller than he. In his hands he held a

hammer, but not one meant for building. No, by the shape of it, this hammer was clearly meant for war.

“Trespassers!” the Toad King croaked. The mud shook as he spoke, as if the bog itself were afraid of him. “You! Mice! You may go, as long as you promise never to come back to the Trembling Bog again. All I want is Ranae’s head.”

Mousey tightened his grip around his stave and tried to think of anything he could use to fight off this amphibious horde.

“Mousey,” Sopher whispered in his thoughts, “Don’t do anything foolish. Even with magic you cannot fight this many.”

“I can’t just let them kill Sir Ranae!” Mousey thought.

“You’re a wizard, Mousey! Surely you can think of a better solution than simply fighting everyone you meet!”

“I have a counter offer,” Mousey said to the Toad King.

His eyes kept stock of every armed toad all around them. He’d tried to count just how many there were, but he’d lost count somewhere around thirty.

“An offer?” the Toad King croaked. Low laughter rippled through the ranks of his cavalry. The Toad King chuckled as well. “Very well, little mouse, let us hear what you think is more valuable to me than finally slaying my long-standing enemy.”

Mousey bit his lower lip, silently begging the Heavens to work in his favor. He took a deep breath, then said, “I can cure the Swamp Plague.”

There was a murmur among the toads, but the Toad King silenced them when he raised his hand. The fleshy sack under his chin expanded and flattened a few times, and then he spoke, “How do I know this is true?”

Mousey gave his stave to his mother, then stepped forward and held out both of his wrists. “Take me prisoner and bring me to

someone who is sick with Swamp Plague. As long as you bring me all the ingredients I need, I will cure them, and then you will know you can trust me.”

The toads all murmured again, and their king stroked his chin in thought. His tongue slipped out and licked his own eye, and every other toad in the circle did the same.

“Come now,” Mousey said, a smirk starting to form on his lips. “Are you telling me you know of no one who has the Swamp Plague?”

“One of my tadpoles has it,” said the Toad King, gravely. His lower lip quivered, and his hands tightened around his riding gecko’s reins. “My poor little Bufo…”

The riding gecko looked up at the Toad King and said, “Everything’s going to be fine, sire.”

The Toad King smacked the riding gecko on the top of his head and croaked, “You’ll speak when spoken to, Migale!”

The gecko turned his face away from the Toad King and said, “Yes, sire. Thank you, sire.”

The Toad King deliberated for a few more moments. All the while Mousey’s tail wagged back and forth, keeping his balance in case he needed to jump back, grab his stave, and try to fight off the soldiers.

Finally, the Toad King said, “Tie his wrists.” As one of the toad soldiers approached Mousey with a rope in hand, the Toad King looked down at him with narrow pupils. “You will cure Bufo for me. If you fail, I will slay the other mouse and Ranae. Then, you will be slow-roasted on a spit while still alive and fed to my soldiers.”

The toads all cheered at the prospect, raising their spears high over their heads. One of them caught Mousey’s eye and stuck out his long tongue, wagging it back and forth. Mousey cringed but did not fight back as one of the toads tied his wrists.

More toads moved in and tied up Sir Ranae and Lexi as well. The toads pushed them along forcing them to march through the mud.

Sir Ranae leaned in close to Mousey and said, “You cannot trust these beasts! They’re nothing but liars and murderers!”

“Silence, you!” shouted one of the toads as she smacked Sir Ranae on the back of the head.

Toads lifted both Lexi and Mousey onto the backs of riding geckos, and three toads worked together to do the same for Sir Ranae.