Fables for Grown-Up Children

2. Frog

While Hedgehog was having a rough time of it, Frog was preparing for his own journey.

Frog cared not for mountains, but desired to travel the length of his home stream to learn how other frogs lived in their bit of water.

He told his family about the trip.

"Take a pointy stick with you, Frog dear. Our kind have such tender skin. You never know when you might need to protect yourself from a leathery toad or something."

"Alright," Frog agreed. Sticks had all sorts of uses, anyway.

Frog set off, excited by the prospect of new amphibious friends. And sure enough, when he clambered onto the bank of the stream to rest and have lunch, he encountered a cluster of easygoing frogs.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, jamming the end of his stick in the mud. "I'm Frog, from Upstream."

"Have lunch with us!" they ribbited.

As they caught flies together, Frog asked his new buddies about leathery toads. "Are there many of them? Is my pointy stick enough?"

"There are some unsavory characters Downstream, Frog. Numbers unknown," delcared the alpha frog of the group. "You may want a helmet too." He jumped off, and returned with a hollowed out acorn with a thick, textured top. There was a rectangular void in its side, just the right size for Frog's face. Its stem was fixed at a jaunty angle.

"Thank you!" said Frog. And he set off down the stream once more, somehow more confident and more uncertain than before.

He stopped when he spied salamanders running on the banks. Fascinating, the way they moved! Frog waved at them.

"Are you from Upstream?" one asked.

"Yes. Pleased to meet you." Frog pushed his helmet back to see better.

"Likewise. We've heard about your kind. I hope you don't jab at us with that stick!"

"I would never!" cried Frog in horror. "I'm as gentle as a pollywog. I only have this stuff because I want to go Downstream and you know what I may encounter."

The salamanders nodded sagely. "Indeed. Only you need something to protect your body."

Frog felt nervous--just how bad was it Downstream?

"Wait here," they ordered. Frog did so as they scurried and gathered, debated and laughed, worked and cheered themselves on.

Finally, they presented Frog with a garment unlike any he had seen in his brief life. Delicate waxy stems had been looped and linked together, row after row of them. They helped Frog into it, and he was surprised by how light it was.

One of the salamanders flicked a pebble at Frog with his tail. It bounced off the new armor and Frog felt the impact as a mild, dull sensation.

"Amazing!" exclaimed Frog. "How can I ever thank you?"

They waved him off, smiling, and Frog lifted his helmet to show respect. Then he departed from their bit of stream.

Dinner was enjoyed with a wise old duck--not what Frog was expecting, but such fun. Duck was even more exotic than the salamanders.

"I expect to be all the way Downstream by nightfall," announced Frog.

"Quack!" Duck flapped in alarm. She was famous for this expression; it had many uses and responding to bad news was one of them. Duck knew of a snake that favored those waters and was always hungry. "I'm not sure a tender tadpole like you should go there," said Duck.

"But I have to keep going. I haven't met any frogs that are different from me yet, and that is the whole point of this thing," explained Frog. "No offense, of course," he added quickly. Upstream frogs had good manners.

"None taken." Duck chewed her water bugs in silence. "All I can say is aim for the eyes with the cruel end of that stick."

"Oh quack," yelped Frog, trying out the new word. "The stories are true, then."

"Oh yes," said Duck. "I think you should carry a shield."

Frog gulped and keep in mind: he had finished his dinner already.

Duck swiveled her head around in an impossible manner and plucked a cluster of feathers from her skin. "If we fan them out like so...tie the bottoms together...yes, like that..."

They worked together to create a broad shield. "Good luck," said Duck as she nestled Frog under a wing.

She watched Frog maneuver back to the stream with the stick in one hand and the shield in the other, the armor forcing him to shuffle more than hop, and the helmet lurching to and fro.

"Crazy little quack," she murmured to herself.

It was getting dark by the time Frog floated to his destination. He climbed the bank gingerly now. Peering over the edge, he spied a cluster of...something...in the fading light. Definitely amphibious, but could it be leathery toads?!

He took some meager hops forward. The cluster loosened and the creatures looked around to find the source of the clacking noises that had alerted them to an unexpected--visitor? Intruder?

Frog could plainly see they were frogs: exotic Downstream frogs! Overjoyed, he leaped toward them. "Hey!" he shouted.

They sprung into a line and watched Frog charge. They had never seen such a vicious-looking assassin in their entire lives.

"I've come from Upstream!" Frog said loudly. He bounded toward them and attempted to drop his stick and shield, but his slime had acted as an adherent, and he simply flailed about, appearing unhinged.

"The stories are true!" he heard one scream. "Attack!"

They were on him at once and Frog, quite confused, was suddenly in a fight for his very life.

As consciousness drained away like so much swamp water, Frog glumly realized these frogs weren't exotic at all. They were exactly like him.