A Deal is Croaked

The streetlamp overhead buzzes with tired light, yellow as old honey. Mia traces the collar’s tag, then tucks it into her jacket, watching me—her new, marsh-born accomplice—with an expression you’d use for a fragile spell. Both of us keep very still, as if the wrong move might burst the strange bubble of our moment.

I’m the first to break the hush, flicking my throat with a gentle croak. "It’s settled, then. We’ll find your Charlie. But there’s something else I need, too."

Mia hugs her knees. "What do frogs want? Flies?"

"No more flies than usual. And frankly, city flies are mostly wrappers and regret lately." My attempt at a grin is all lips and throat, but she almost smiles—almost.

Above us, clouds nose past the moon. I take a deep breath, feeling the marsh-magic warm behind my eyes. "My home’s in trouble, too—my pond. It used to spread where the big trucks are now digging. My world is shrinking every day."

She glances at the construction site, brow furrowed. "You live there? I thought frogs liked forests, or maybe fairy tales. Not…"

"Not city gutters and storm drains?" I finish for her, with a rueful croak. "We take what we can get. But if the pond goes, so do I—and all the others."

Mia’s eyes widen. "That’s not fair."

"No, it isn’t. So here’s my deal: I’ll help you find Charlie. But if we succeed, you’ll help me, too. You’ll help me save what’s left of my home."

She nods, slow and serious. "I promise."

A promise, in the dark, between a girl and a frog. The kind of promise that can change more than one life, if you let it.