Mud gripped to Mousey’s paws with each step.

Bright green algae floated on the surface of the water around them.

Vines hung from the branches of trees above.

There was a foul stench in the air, like sewage and moldy cheese.

He could hear the buzzing of mosquitoes and dragonflies nearby.

And every so often, the mud would grow warmer as the ground shook.

There was no doubt about it now; they were in the midst of the Trembling Bog.

Sir Ranae kept an eye out for approaching toads, and led Mousey along paths where the roots of trees kept them out of the muck. Most of the time, anyway.

“Don’t stop thinking about your mother,” Sopher said from Mousey’s pocket. “Keep her image in your mind, and trust your feelings. You already know where she is, even if you don’t know you know.”

She was right. The further they walked into this swamp, the more he knew that his mother was not far. There was that warmth and comfort he always felt whenever she was near. Though he’d had little to eat in the swamp, except for the occasional grasshoppers Sir Ranae had helped him catch, his belly felt as if it were full of his mother’s bread.

Sir Ranae’s tongue lashed out every few seconds, enjoying the feast of mosquitoes all around them. He’d been in an unusually pleasant mood, even compared to usual, ever since they’d entered the swamp. Mousey found this quite odd, given that they were deep into enemy territory at this point.

At a certain point in the bog, Mousey stopped walking, for he felt a pull in his chest, directing him straight downward. He stared down at the mud under his paws and cocked his head to one side. Why was he sensing his mother below him?

Sir Ranae halted and turned to him. “Mousey, what is it?”

“She’s right below me…” said Mousey, giving Sir Ranae a confused look.

Sir Ranae walked over to him and tapped the ground with his feet. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes!” squeaked Mousey. “I can’t explain it… but I know she’s down there. How is that possible?”

Sir Ranae rubbed his chin for a moment and stared at the ground. Then, under Mousey’s paws, the ground began to shift, and Sir Ranae’s eyes widened. “Mousey, run!” he croaked.

Mousey moved to do as he was told, but tripped when part of the mud under his paws shifted. He crashed snout-first into the muck, and flailed to get his nose out of that foul-smelling mess. His paws frantically wiped the mud away from his nostrils, desperate to be rid of that horrible stench.

“Hmmm…” came a booming, deep voice from behind Mousey. His whole body trembled, and he slowly turned his head to see the source. There stood an enormous four-legged creature, with pitch-black skin covered in yellow stripes. The creature had a long tail, eyes that bugged out, and a wide smile that reached back to where Mousey imagined ears should have been. “Well, hello, there,” said the beast. As it spoke, its breath came out as a foul-smelling, green haze.

Mousey stared up into one of the creature’s black eyes, too frozen with terror to move. Soon, his eyes drifted down to the creature’s gaping, open mouth, and the saliva already pouring over the beast’s tongue.

He was snapped back to reality when Sir Ranae grabbed him and leapt up onto the branch of a nearby tree. “A salamander!” Sir Ranae croaked. “Stay away from these monsters, Mousey! Their breath is a plague, and they’ll eat anything weaker than they!”

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“Oh? Fleeing before our battle’s even begun, are you?” The salamander grinned, revealing a set of sharp teeth, just behind his lips. “Sir Ranae Salamander’s Bane, I expected better of you! Was it not you who slew Emurth the Clever in single combar?”

Sir Ranae drew his sword, but said nothing.

“And, little Mousey…” the salamander cooed. “I hope you don’t mind me eavesdropping, but it seems you were looking for your mother?” The salamander moved off to one side, revealing that he had been resting upon a small cage, in which lay a mouse, covered in mud and slime.

“Mom!” Mousey shouted, as Sir Ranae struggled to hold him back.

“We need a plan,” Sir Ranae whispered to him.

The striped beast below them roared with laughter. “Oh, yes, indeed. You will need a brilliant plan if you intend to survive, Sir Ranae. See, we salamanders have a certain… sense of pride. Where Emurth the Clever failed, I, Mogur the Swift shall succeed. All will know of my story; the salamander who ate Sir Ranae!”

Sir Ranae leapt from the branch with Mousey in his arms, just as the black salamander’s tongue snapped the spot where they’d stood just a moment ago. With Mousey in one arm and a sword in his other hand, Sir Ranae struggled to land his feet upon the nearest branch in reach.

“What’s wrong, Mousey?” Mogur taunted. “Don’t you care about your poor mother? I agreed to spare her life if she sung to me every day, but now that I think about it, a she-mouse would make for an excellent dinner.”

“YOU MONSTER!” Mousey squealed.

“Don’t!” Sir Ranae whispered again, still trying to hold Mousey back. “Don’t play his game his way! It’s a trick! We’re out of his reach here.”

Mogur roared with laughter again, then tore the roof off the cage. Mrs. Souris moaned and squirmed, her eyes barely opening to look up at the salamander. Mogur wiggled his fingers in delight, then scooped up Mrs. Souris in his hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted mouse flesh…”

Mousey made the closest sound he could muster to a snarl and aimed his stave at Mogur. A round, river stone flew through the air and cracked the salamander’s side, causing him to drop Mrs. Souris as he stumbled away.

Mogur glared at Mousey, fury in his eyes, let out a low hiss, then charged at the tree wherein Mousey and Sir Ranae stood. When he reached the trunk, his fingers stuck to it, and he ran straight up the front.

Mousey turned to Sir Ranae, “Get my mother! Now!” he commanded. “I’ll hold him off!”

Sir Ranae nodded to Mousey and leapt from the branch to the back side of the tree.

Mogur was half-way up the trunk when he looked up at Mousey again and opened his mouth.

Seeing what was coming, Mousey raised his stave again and a large shield appeared between him and Mogur. Mogur’s tongue smacked the shield.

The salamander hissed again and continued his ascent.

Mousey aimed his stave and recalled a snow storm from years ago, one that had all but buried his mother’s house, allowing he and his siblings to play in the powder. Frost and snow blasted Mogur’s face.

Groans and hisses poured from the salamander’s lips, but he continued up the tree. Even so, the beast had closed his eyes to protect them from the freezing onslaught.

Perfect.

Mousey swung his stave.

A sword appeared in the air, and the blade severed Mogur’s front, left leg. Mogur hissed in pain, but did not fall from the tree as Mousey had hoped.

Then, to Mousey’s horror, a new leg grew to replace the one Mousey had just severed.

Mogur’s tongue lashed out and stuck to Mousey’s chest. He whipped through the air, straight at the salamander’s mouth.

Yet, Mousey was not swallowed whole, as the salamander intended. He swung his stave again, and another blade severed Mogur’s tongue before Mousey could reach the beast’s mouth.

Mousey plummeted toward the muck below, the creature’s tongue falling with him.

But, again, he felt something jerk his body away from the ground.

Sir Ranae now held Mrs. Souris under one arm and Mousey in the other as he leapt up to the branch of another tree.

“I kee you!” the salamander screamed, his missing tongue making it difficult to speak. He turned and ran along a tree branch that led to the tree Sir Ranae had chosen.

Sir Ranae set Mrs. Souris down on the branch and drew his sword again. He held it firmly in both hands and said, “Conceal me from his sight.”

“Yes, sir!” squeaked Mousey. Mousey aimed his stave at the charging salamander, whose new tongue was curled in his mouth, ready to strike again. A torrent of pebbles filled the air, pelting Mogur’s face. Once more, Mogur was forced to close his eyes to protect them from the rocks.

Sir Ranae took a deep breath, held it, then leapt at the distracted salamander. His body blocked some of the pebbles as he sailed through the air, allowing Mogur to open his eyes again at the last second.

But it was too late.

Sir Ranae’s sword pierced Mogur between the eyes, and the salamander fell dead. The frog knight kicked the beast off the tree branch, letting his body crash into the mud below.

He turned to face Mousey with a grin on his lips. “We did it!”

Mousey nodded,” Yes, yes, we did. Now, please, help me find a place she can lay down.”