This story is dedicated to Alicia Hart with Love from her Granddad
A Frogs Tale
By Alan Hart
Published by Alan Hart at Smashwords
This work has been registered with the Writers' Copyright Association
1st book in the series “Tales from Wingy Wood
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Splat, a huge dollop of water exploded upwards out of the previously calm surface of the pond and landed on the second Lily pad from the bank.
Herb the Frog, had made an enormous leap and crashed into the water in his haste to escape.
Short
moments later, his two Frogs eyes and the tip of his nose appeared in
the water where the dollop had come from.
The eyes swivelled from
left to right but there was nothing there. He exhaled air from his
nose in a long slow breath as he began to relax, the danger that he
was expecting did not come
Herb’s nose started to emerge from the water, followed by the rest of his head and then his arm reached out to grasp the edge of the lily pad.
Whoosh a flying figure shattered the surface of the water behind him. Herb raised his voice and he gave out a great peal of laughter; his friend Peter had once again managed to drench him, by doing his famous bomb splash so well, that it swamped Herb and all the surrounding Lily pads with pond water
Peter slowly came
to the surface beside Herb, a huge grin on his face, they stayed
there,
floating on the water for a while grinning at each other, then they
both climbed onto the Lily pad.
Hello!
This story, about those two young frogs, starts one lovely bright morning on that very same Lily pad, it was located next but one from the bank of the Wingy Wood pond.
I suppose that I should introduce myself at this juncture. I always feel that it’s better if the storyteller has an identity, don't you?
Well, anyway, I'm Joshuah Longtail: Rat about Town, (or wood); storyteller extraordinaire, friend and confidante to all the inhabitants of Wingy Wood, with the exception of that awfully devious fellow, Igor the Fox.
He and I have a mutual disrespect, the cause of which I don't want to go into at this point.
Before I carry on with the story, I’d better explain a few things
Most stories about creatures, such as rabbits, birds and frogs, make them appear to be human; for example, 'Rupert the Bear',' Toad of Toad-Hall', etc., etc.
They are made out to be walking and playing games and using things like boats, in the way that humans would; as if the creature's natural actions wouldn't be enjoyable, or even understood.
This is a story about frogs; behaving in frog like ways and going about their frog like activities - in other words, acting - well - Froggily!
It's mainly a story about a very young frog called Peter and his friend Herb. Herb is short for Herbert but only his mother calls him that.
Peter and Herb had been friends ever since they were tadpoles. Peter was the elder of the two, by 7 minutes.
They had both hatched in the annual frog spawning season, when millions of frogs are spawned (born) every year. (Seven minutes is a long time to a frog.)
As I started to tell you, there they were on this lily pad. Peter looked at Herb; "Ribbyibyib - Ribit rib rib it it it!" he croaked.
"Ribit rib rib it it it?" Herbs froggy voice was puzzled. Peter laughed and smugly enlightened his friend with:
"Rib riby iby ibit." He stamped his foot in glee as frogs do, the lily pad swayed on the water.
Herb staggered a little, "RIBBIT RIBBit ribby ribby it!" He warned.
What all that meant was - Peter asked Herb if he knew what was long and wet.
Herb raised a froggy eyebrow and said "What is long and wet?"
Peter's reply, with a voice full of mirth was, "The answer's an Eel!"
Then he laughed and stamped his foot and Herb told him to be careful because he had almost made the lily pad capsize.
Now we're up to date, I'll continue with the story.
Peter cocked an eye and said, "Rib rib riby rib ribbit. . . .
Oh dear this will never do, it's going to take an awfully long time to tell this story if I have to keep going back to translate.
I'll tell you what – If you don’t mind, I'll tell you the story directly in Human, rather than translating it from Frog, what do you say? -- Ok?
Good, so I'll continue.
Peter cocked an eye: "You have heard of the great Eel, haven't you?”
Herb blinked and asked, "What's a great Eel."
"A great Eel, ---- THE great Eel, is one of the world’s wonders," Peter's voice held a note of mystery.
"He knows everything there is to know, his body is very long; it stretches from here to right over there.” He nodded to a lily pad some distance away.
"He's so old he calls my Granddad Sonny, and he's so tough even Septimus Pike hides when the Great Eel is around.”
He paused, “Although My Granddad said the Eel loves little frogs"
"This I must see!" Herb's eyes lit up with interest. "Where did you see him?” He looked eagerly at Peter.
"Well ---," Peter, screwed up his face, "I didn't really SEE him --, my Granddad told me all about him though.”
Herb's face lost some of its excited expression and Peter quickly added, "My Granddad told me the stream over the Vast Plain is where the great Eel can mostly be found!”
A long silence followed . . . then Herb shook his head as though shaking off some unwanted thoughts, and he let out a long stream of breath through pursed lips. "Well, when are we going?" his voice was a mixture of demand and urging.
Peter looked slightly taken aback. "Er . . . it's an awfully long way, and Mum told me not to stay out too long tonight, and she says it's very dangerous crossing the Vast Plain."
"Oh do let’s go?" Herb pleaded, "Your Mum will never notice that you’re away for a while, after all -- you do have Three Thousand Two Hundred and Sixty four brothers and sisters."
Peter's eyes glazed with thought. "That's true enough," he said, "but what about crossing that Vast Plain?" He paused. "Mum told us that no one has ever come back from the other side!"
Herbs eyes took on a doubting look, "I've never heard of this thing you call 'Vast Plain!”
“And besides, if what your Mum said is true, about nobody ever coming back, how does your Granddad know, about the Great Eel?"
"And, how does ANYBODY know that there is a stream on the other side? It doesn't make sense.” He screwed up his eyes, willing Peter to agree with him.
Peters eyes glazed over again, (as frog's eyes do,) he stayed motionless for a long time (another frog characteristic) and finally murmured,
"You’re right again. I bet Mum was just trying to stop me and my brothers from going. She doesn't like us to stray very far.”
Suddenly, excitement welled up inside him and with a voice full of daring, burst out, "OK, let's do it; let’s go!"
The enormity of the moment made the two little frogs gape at each other; eagerness filled their wide eyes.
"That's it then, we'll go!" Herb clapped his hands excitedly; determination in his voice.
"Right!" Peter said firmly, then he narrowed his eyes and looked around almost furtively; with a lowered voice he added, "Let’s go now before anyone notices we’re missing."
The two little frogs sprang one after the other onto the next leaf, and from there onto the grassy bank of the pond.
"Er - which way is it?” Herb asked, his voice somewhat higher in pitch than usual.
"I'm not sure, but it could be somewhere behind that big log," Peter made a last minute decision to go left instead of right, "over there on the edge of the wood." He waved his hand in the general direction that he meant.
"Let’s go that way anyway and ask when we get there. What do you think?"
Herb nodded his agreement and the two set off in the direction of the old chopped log that Peter had pointed out.
They made a merry sight, bouncing through the grass; two little green frogs, so brave and carefree, off on their first big adventure.
If they had only known the horrors which awaited them at the Vast Plain, they would not have been so carefree.
However, they could not see into the future, and so as far as they were concerned, the setting could not have been more idyllic; the trees and grass looked splendid in summer shades of green.
Birds floated in the warm summer air, silhouetted against the beautiful azure sky.
There was that certain scent of blossoms and grass, that only comes with summer, and the whole scene was painted over with a layer of golden light from that huge golden orb, the Sun.
A bumblebee buzzed over their heads and landed on the bright yellow petals of a nearby dandelion.
"Hello, you two!" he hummed. "Where are you going to on such a fine day? Looking for some nice pollen to make your honey with? I can tell you where to find some lovely clover and buttercups!"
"Thanks for asking Mister Bee, but we‘re not making honey today!” Peter smiled up at the bee.
"We’re off to see the Great Eel. He lives in the stream over the Vast Plain.” His eyes sparkled as he divulged their destination.
"Er -- you don’t happen to know the way do you?"
"Fraid not!" The Bee mused, "I know lots of flower beds and meadows full of clover, but I don’t know anything about great eels or plains or streams.
“But I wish you luck in your search!"
The two frogs thanked the bee for his good wishes, and Herb added "We’re going to start from that big log over there!"
"It seems like as good a place to start as any," the Bee murmured in a none committed way.
"I hope you make good speed! I’m going to be on my way now. Bye!” The Bee buzzed his wings at a tremendous speed and slowly got his bulky little body into the air.
The lads watched him go for a while, on his rather erratic course; he seemed to stagger through the sky, buzzing left then right.
"If we traveled like that we’d never get anywhere! Peter's voice was full of amusement. Let's try to travel in straight lines, eh!” They both laughed.
They did travel in straight lines, and they made good speed, too; almost before they knew it, they were standing by the huge chopped log.
"What are you two up to?" The words seemed to come from inside the log. Peter looked at Herb! Herb looked at Peter! They both stood stock-still. "Cat got your tongue?" The voice addressed them again.
"Who's that?" Peter's voice was cautious. He inched his head around very slowly looking at the log.
"It's only me – I’m up here!" the voice came again. Peter looked up and saw a head protruding from a hole in the log, some small distance from the ground.
It was the head of a large brown millipede, and sported two very long feelers, waving steadily.
"Like a bite of my log?" The millipede's voice had a slushy quality.
"It's lovely and soft!” He took a large bite from the edge of the hole to prove his point. His jaws worked sideways, like a pair of pincers.
"No, thanks," Peter used his most grateful tone, "but you could help us if you will."
The Millipede swayed his head, which made his feelers bob about like pendulums.
"I will if I can and I won’t if I can't. I know everything there is to know about Wingy Wood. I was born and raised in this log.
My Dad and Mum were raised in it too. So, how can I help you?"
Peter looked at Herb then he turned back to the Millipede "Do you by any chance know the way to the Vast Plain?” His eyes looked hopeful.
"The Vast Plain?" The Millipede's slushy voice changed its tone slightly. "Why would you two lads be wanting to know the way to the Vast Plain."
His head had stopped swaying and he regarded them with a piercing gaze.
"We’re trying to get to the stream that's on the other side of it," explained Herb, "but we don't really know which direction it's in."
"Why do a couple of frogs want to leave the pond to try to get to a stream?" The Millipede waggled his head again.
"It doesn't make sense: frogs find their food in ponds not streams. It's like me leaving my log to live in a meadow! Not natural."
"Oh we don’t want to live there! Actually were going to try to find the Great Eel," Peter explained. "It lives in the stream, or so we've been told."
"The Great Eel! The millipede sounded shocked. You want to keep away from the Great Eel,
I’ve heard it eats Millipedes!" Alarm sounded in the Millipede's voice, and his head started swaying again in an agitated manner.
"But we're not Millipedes, we're Frogs!" Herb exclaimed.
"That's right," Peter added, "and my Granddad says the Eel loves Frogs."
The Millipede gave a slow shake of his feelers and blew a long blow, like a sigh.
"On your own heads be it," his slushy voice had an air of resignation in it, "but I said I'd help if I could, and I can”.
“I overheard two Mice talking when they had stopped by my log one-day. They said they were going to the Vast Plain!
“They seemed to think it was a very dangerous place, though they didn't say why”.
“Anyway they went towards that big old oak tree over there.” He pointed his feelers towards a great tree in the distance.
"Now if you’re sure you don't want a bite of my log, I'll be off. Thinking about that Great Eel has given me the collywobbles, goodbye.”
And with a wave of his hand, he disappeared.
Peter looked at Herb and grinned, "Come on then," expectation filled his voice "phase two, of the greatest trek the world has ever seen"
"I've told you a billion times, don't exaggerate!" Herb laughed so much at his own joke it gave him the hiccups.
This in turn set Peter off laughing and soon they were both rolling about on the grass holding their sides, which ached with the effort of laughing so hard.
Eventually the two settled down, and with slightly watery eyes and broad grins still on their faces; they set off in the direction of the great oak tree.
It wasn't too many hops before they were in the very shadows of the mighty tree, (Frogs measure distances in hops, and smaller distances in frogs-legs.)
The big old rotting log from which they had come had disappeared from view.
"We had better take note of something in the distance which will help us find our way back, don't you think?" Peter’s question was half to himself, half to Herb.
"That's a good idea!" agreed Herb.
They knew the direction they had just traveled, so the two little frogs stood with their backs to the great tree and picked out a hill on the horizon that was in line with where they knew the old log to be.
"Now all we have to do is remember that hill and we can find our way back home from here, can't we." Peter sounded satisfied with this little precaution.
"Yes, but where do we go from here?" questioned Herb.
"Where do you a-hoo --- go to- ta hoo?" A rounded voice sounded from up in the tree.
The two little frogs looked up to see a large Owl peering down at them from one of the lower branches; from the voice, they could tell she was a lady.
"Good morning, Mrs. Owl," Peter was very respectful, "we're trying to find the Vast Plain. Could you perhaps tell us which way we have to go?"
The Owl blinked several times and then replied "No-oh-hoo, I've never heard of such a thing-a-hoo, Vast Plain-na-loo. I can't help you-a-hoo."
Herb cocked his head to one side and said, "Actually we’re trying to get to the stream which is on the other side of the Vast Plain."
"Soo-hoo," said the owl, nodding her head slowly, "there is a stream-ma-loo, that I know- wa-hoo, and I'll tell you-uh-oo, which way to go-oh-hoo."
The Owl's head swiveled around until she faced the opposite direction,
"Go though-a-hoo the grass-sa-loo until you-hoo come to-hoo the white spruce-sa-loo."
The owl indicated the direction with her beak.
"There you'll find a path--tha-hoo which you-a-hoo can follow-wa-hoo to the woods end –da-hoo."
"Thank you-hoo, ahem, sorry, er, thank you," Peter bowed slightly as he offered his thanks.
He smiled his best frog smile, and then hopped off in the direction that the Owl had indicated, pausing briefly to check that Herb was following.
Then the two of them went on their merry way, hoppity hop through the grass on this splendid morning.
The sun still shone, and there wasn't much of a breeze: in truth, it was what one could call 'summery hot'.
So summery and so hot, in fact, that Peter soon had to stop in the shade of a largish rock. (Well, largish to a little frog.)
Herb followed Peter into the shade. "Phew. It is warm isn't it?" he gasped, wiping his hand across his brow.
(Did you know that frog's hands and feet are very much like human hands and feet? Except that they are webbed. Just thought I'd ask, anyway, back to the story.)
"Not half," Peter agreed, "you don't notice it so much when you're sitting on a nice cool lily pad do you? I bet you could fry an ant egg on the top of this rock."
The two little frogs stood absolutely motionless for a long time, just letting their body temperature cool a little.
They looked for all the world like two little green statues and those were almost the very words that a passing cricket used when it, too, stopped in the shade of the rock.
"You two look just like a pair of statues.” it said.
"Oh, hi," Peter was the first to answer. He shook his head slightly to rid himself of thoughts of cool lily pads. "We were just cooling off a bit."
"I know what you mean," the Cricket's rolled his eyes as he spoke,
"I've just come all the way from that white spruce over there, and this is the only bit of shade I've found in all that way."
"That's what we're headed for," Herb finally dragged himself into the conversation.
"Oh, right!" the Cricket turned slightly to include Herb,
"you'll be okay when you get there, there's lots of shade and nice cool crevices to sneak into and spend a day or two."
"We can't stay there a day or two!" Peter looked slightly shocked by the thought.
"We've got to be back home tonight, our Moms would be very cross if we stayed out all night!” He looked at Herb, "Anyway, we don't want to stay out all night do we Herb?"
"Oh, no, we couldn't stay out all night," Herb agreed, "and anyway frogs don't like crevices.
“We like big open ponds, with lily pads and reeds. No disrespect intended.
Herb smiled and blinked his eyes in a disarming manner.
"Hmmm!" the Cricket wasn't sure how to take that last remark. "If that's so, why are you going over that way anyway? There's no pond over there?"
"We're trying to get to the Vast Plain! At least that's what they call it around our way." Peter used a soothing tone.
He had noted the slight bristle in the cricket’s voice, and was trying to get back to a friendly footing.
Peter was of the opinion that it's better not to upset people if one could avoid it.
"Oh, the Vast Plain!" The Cricket's voice lost it's aggressive edge, "that explains even less!"
It rubbed its back legs together and made a loud trrrrrrrr sound; similar to the sound that Peter's granddad made when he cleared his throat.
"There are even less cool spots there than there are here, in fact there are none!
“What would two frogs want to be going to such a dangerous place as the Vast Plain for?"
"Is this the correct way to the Vast Plain then?” said Herb.
His Mum had told him ‘never answer a question with a question,’ but he did anyway, and his little eyes were bright with anticipation.
"Oh, yes, it's the correct way all right, but I don't think you should be going there! It's not a fitting place for frogs or crickets!
“In fact it’s not a safe place for anybody!" The Cricket trrrrrrred again with his back legs.
"Wh-wh–why is it so dangerous?" Peter stuttered. He lowered his head as though afraid to hear the answer.
"It's because of the roaring monsters," said the Cricket forcefully.
"Sometimes hundreds of them, rushing around killing everything on the Plain.
Mind you, sometimes you don't see one for hours at a time. Depends if your luck is in or out I suppose."
"We’re not very lucky, are we Peter?" Herb's voice had an un-hopeful tone. "I bet we won’t see hide or hair of one!"
"I didn't mean you had to be lucky to see one," The Cricket retorted, "I meant you had to be lucky NOT to see one, and they certainly don't have hide, --- nor hair!"
"Oh, I see!" Herb didn't see of course. "What do they look like - these roaring monsters?” Herb leaned forward a little, prompting a reply.
"They come in lots of different shapes and sizes, from huge to gigantic, and many different colours too." The Cricket tossed his head airily.
"And the smell of the black fog they blow out is enough to kill you on its own.
Mind you, if you just stay on the edge of the Vast Plain you should be all right; the monsters don't very often venture off it to kill anyone.”
“Anyway, I must be off, can't hang around here all day chatting. Goodbye and good luck!"
With that word and a final trrrrrrr of its back legs the Cricket leaped right over the rock and out of sight.
Peter had watched the huge leap with some amazement and not a little envy. "Gosh, I wish I could jump as well as that!" he murmured, half to himself and half to Herb.
He turned slowly to look at his friend. "What do you think now?" he asked carefully. "Shall we turn back or shall we press on to the Vast Plain? He cocked his head inquisitively.
"I think we should press on," Herb replied resolutely, "we've just got to see what those 'roaring monsters' are like, even if we don't cross the Vast Plain. At least we will have seen something!"
"I agree," Peter was nodding as he spoke, "let’s press on."
And so the two little friends continued on their way, hoppity hop, amongst the grass until at last they reached the tall white Spruce that had seemed so far away only a short while ago.
They paused for a brief rest, and to take note of the direction they had come.
They could see the large Oak Tree in the far distance, which was a great comfort to them. They both felt that, so far at least, they knew the way back home.
That, Peter's Granddad had once told them, was the most important thing of any traveling adventure. Rule number one, he had called it. "Always be sure of your way home."
On the whole the two friends felt that they were doing rather well; they were on the correct course, or so they had been told; they had met some new friends, and they knew a little bit more about what to expect. Forewarned is forearmed.
After their short rest, they started looking for the path that the Millipede had told them they would find near the white Spruce.
Sure enough, there in the shade, they found it, a grass-less path of earth that had been compacted by a thousand feet; a great big highway it seemed to the two small frogs, stretching far into the shadowy distance of the wood.
"Well," Peter, looked sideways at Herb, "shall we?"
"I think so!" Herb nodded staunchly.
They set off again, hippity hop, hoppity hip, along this lovely shady route.
As a result of the path being so nice and flat they made even better time than they had before.
They did stop once when a rabbit bounced across the path and almost landed on Peter.
"Hey look where you're going you great lummox!" shouted Peter.
But he might just as well have saved his breath, because the rabbit never even so much as paused in his mad dash to somewhere or other.
"That was a close shave," Herb was puffing a little, both from the quick pace that they had maintained, and from a touch of concern that such a huge mass of fur and feet could suddenly drop out of the sky.
"I wonder if that was what the Cricket was calling a 'roaring monster'?"
"I hardly think so," Peter shook his head, there was no roaring was there!
Even Crickets must know what a rabbit is, even impolite rabbits like that one.
“No I'm pretty sure that we've got the pleasure of meeting our first 'roaring monster' still to come."
Once again, they set off, and it wasn't long before they came to the edge of the wood.
The grass was higher here than it had been on the other side of the wood but the path continued straight through it.
As they hopped along, they noticed that the sounds they were making were the only sounds they could hear. It was odd: there were no sounds from birds, or crickets, nothing.
They stopped for a few moments and Herb remarked in a hushed voice, "It's really quiet here isn't it? I'm not sure I like it this quiet."
"At least we can't hear anything roaring," Peter tried to sound confident. "I wonder when we’re going to get to that Vast Plain?"
"I don't know," Herb shook his head, "but what's that black stuff up ahead?"
Just a dozen or so hops in front of them the path stopped and there were a few tufts of straggly grass, and then there was a ridge of what looked to be black balls all stuck together.
It went right across the path; they couldn't actually see how wide it was because of the long grass down the sides of the path.
"Looks like a flattened pile of blackberries." Peter mused.
The two little frogs hopped forwards until they were right up to this 'oddity'.
Peter stuck out his hand and gingerly touched the black mass of whatever it was
"It’s not blackberries, that’s for sure.” his voice was thoughtful.
"It's very hard and cold. Looks like pebbles, dunnow what the black stuff could be though! It feels a little bit sticky.”
This flat black mass of 'whatever it was', could be seen from close up to be very wide, actually running way past the grass on the sides of the path.
It stood about twice the height of the two little frogs so they couldn't see on top of it.
As Peter had thought, this ridge of 'black-stuff' appeared to be made up of small pebbles and stones; Herb took hold of a part of it with both hands and pulled and pulled, but with no success.
"It's not going to fall down! That's also for sure.” he mused.
"Well, wish me luck; I'm going to jump on top of it," Peter's excitement made him sound breathless, and before Herb could utter a word – ‘boiingg’,
Peter had leapt right up into the air and disappeared over the edge of the black-stuff.
Herb's eyes widened in surprise and concern. He stood stock-still, watching and listening for any sign from his friend.
Of course he need not have worried, Peter's head soon popped over the edge, eyes big and excited,
"Hey Herb, get up here and have a look at this." his tone matched his excited look.
Herb made a huge hop, up to where Peter was standing on the black-stuff, and from there the view was amazing.
The black-stuff stretched away into the distance on both sides, and for as far as the eye could see in front of them too.
"This stuff must cover half of the world!” Peter's voice was filled with awe.
"Yeah," Herb too sounded excited, "now we know why they call it the Vast Plain. It's even bigger than the Pond!"
Peter looked at him steadily, did a few mental calculations, and then nodded. "Maybe four times as big!"
"Right" Herb nodded, “which way do we go? Left, right, or straight-ahead? “
Peter’s eyes were full of excitement. "So we’re not going to wait here to see if we can see a roaring monster?"
Herb cocked his head, listening. "I can't hear any roaring, can you?"
"Straight ahead then, I reckon," Peter's tone was sure.
The 'black stuff' stretched before them, sloping very gently upwards, and from where they stood, it stretched all the way to the horizon.
"Come on," Peter urged, "the sooner we start, the sooner we get to the top of this slope.”
He set off in a determined manner using his fastest racing hop. He covered two thirds of the distance in next to no time and then stopped to wait for Herb who was hopping up almost as fast.
Suddenly there came to his ears a very low, sort of muffled, growl.
"Can you hear that?" he murmured as Herb drew level.
"Yeah, I wonder what it is?" Herb's eyes were narrowed with concentration.
They looked at each other and their eyes began to widen, clanging alarm bells went off in their heads.
They both suddenly remembered the Cricket’s words about the 'roaring monsters'.
Panic welled up inside the two little frogs; tears brimmed in their eyes.
"What can we do?" Herb started to panic. He was hopping one way then the other, but couldn’t decide which way was safe.
He looked despairingly at Peter, willing him to come up with an answer.
Peter had always been the leader of the pair.
He'd been there to stand in front of Herb when the Dragon flies had dive-bombed their lily pad.
It was Peter who jumped on the back of a bully that was trying to steal Herb's dinner of dried gnat; but now Peter's courage was wearing a little thin.
"How can we do something when we don’t know what we're doing it against?" Peter’s voice was husky with desperation.
"I can't see anything, can you?”
He wheeled his head in all directions. "Wait!” He paused. "There, to our right!” He pointed.
There was a small dark object on the horizon and, even as they watched, it was getting bigger and nearer.
"Come on; let’s run back to the woods.” Herb was exceedingly anxious.
"No," said Peter, "we'll never make it.” Let's get up to the top; there may be somewhere to hide.” He glanced at the 'thing' and, to his horror, it was hurtling towards them at a terrifying rate.
"Too late," his voice trembling; he put his hand on his friend's arm, "Best not to look."
The two friends turned their heads away from the 'roaring monster' and lowered their eyes to look at the ground.
Within seconds, the ground began to shake and the growl of the monster became a terrifying roar.
The two little frogs felt themselves bouncing up and down on the 'black-stuff' as though they had been rubber-balls.
Even though they didn't want to look, they found themselves forced to take in what they were sure was their doom. Then the sky went black.
Peter was sure this was it.
He braced himself for the anticipated pain when the monster ravaged his very soul and tore the life from his gasping breast.
Things seemed to Whoosh all around him. Then the sky became light again and the ground stopped shaking.
He looked at Herb. Herb was flat on his back on the ground, with his hands over his eyes and one of his legs kicked spasmodically.
Peter went over to him, a quick scan showed him that Herb appeared intact, "OK Herb? - - it’s all over!"
"Herb cautiously peeked between the fingers that he had spread over his eyes. ”Are we alive?" he whispered. He looked around: the monster was disappearing into the distance.
He got slowly to his feet. "Woweeee,” I thought we were goner’s then." a relieved smile spread over his face.
"You and me both” Peter agreed, "but before we discuss the matter any further let’s get our skins off this 'black stuff!'
Before Herb could argue, he set off towards the top of the slope.
As the two approached the highest point of the Vast Plain, they reached a strip of 'white-stuff' that stretched out on both sides, out into the distance. It was about a hop and a half wide.
They both hopped onto this strip and stopped for breath. From this vantage point they could see that the Vast Plain was actually a huge wide swathe of the black-stuff that stretched from horizon to horizon.
The white stuff went right down the middle of it, but not continuously; it was in strips, like a dotted line.
They quickly looked back along the way they had come. They could see the woods and the path quite clearly,
"Grand-dad's rule number one." thought Peter. He turned around and looked over the route they were about to take.
The view looked almost the same as the one from which they had just come.
Birds eye view of what Peter and Herb saw
The 'black-stuff covered the same amount of ground, on both sides of the white stuff.
There was grass started growing where the 'black-stuff' stopped; there was even a path, which curved to go around a big tree.
The only difference was a couple of gigantic structures that looked like huge stones piled on top of one another, standing a little way from the edge of the Vast Plain and over to one side.
"We must have a look at those!” Peter motioned to Herb, pointing at the two structures. Herb nodded in agreement. He'd recovered his composure and was feeling a little better.
"Now let's get down to the other side as quick as we can." he gritted his teeth and prepared to hop very quickly indeed.
You would have laughed if you had seen those two little frogs bouncing along, leaping as far and as fast as their little legs would take them.
When they reached the other edge of the Vast Plain, they had generated so much speed that they hit the path and couldn't stop for a half a dozen hops.
"Wheee," Peter was almost breathless, "that was the way to do it!"
Herb was by his side, also panting, but with a big grin on his face.
"We must be the fastest frogs in the world." he wore a huge grin.
"We've scared off a roaring monster and crossed the Vast Plain, so I reckon were not only the fastest but also the bravest frogs in the world." said Peter.
He held his head up in a proud manner. The anxiety that had filled him just a few moments ago in the middle of the black-stuff was gone.
"Right - now we've got to find that stream!" He looked around. "Let's follow the path for a while."
Again the two set off, but this time at a more leisurely pace.
They carried on for a few minutes, then the path started to turn until it was heading directly for the two huge structures that they had seen from the center of the Vast Plain.
"Now what's to do?" Herb posed the question reflectively. He'd stopped in the middle of the path. "We shouldn't just blunder on, we could get lost!"
Peter was only two hops away from him. He had also stopped. "We won't get lost if we stay on the path," he sounded confident, "but then," he mused, "we might never find the stream.
“Let us stay on the path until we get to those two big things, then if we decide to, we can turn around and come back here, can't we?"
It seemed a reasonable plan, so Herb agreed and they continued on their way along the path.
Soon they were at the base of one of the huge structures. It reached almost up to the sky; the two little frogs had to strain their necks right back to look up towards the top of it.
"Cor, what do you reckon it is?" Herb's voice sounded odd because his neck was stretched.
"Dunno," Peter wagged his head from side to side to get rid of his own 'stretched neck' feeling.
"But the path goes straight between the two of them. Shall we keep on following it to see where it goes?"
Herb pondered this question a moment "We might as well," he agreed at last. "Like you said, we can always turn around and come back, can't we?"
This time they went along a little warily with small, half hops.
The huge structures also stretched out for a very long way, and ran alongside the path, one on either side.
Their slow speed was further reduced by the pathway's fairly sharp upward incline, which made it seem like a domed hill.
Nevertheless, within a few dozen hops they had reached the top of the incline.
From there they could look down on the rest of the pathway's passage between the two structures.
Here they were these two little frogs standing on what seemed to be a hill, hemmed in by two great structures made of piled up stones.
It was an awesome experience, almost spiritual, (although they didn't know what spiritual was).
"What's it to be?" Herb asked. "Forward or back?"
"Forward!" Peter waved his arm theatrically. "Forward to glory!” He giggled froggily and hopped down the path to continue their journey.
Herb hopped after him. "Frog-kinds bravest sons!" He announced to anyone that may have been listening. "Off to discover new worlds and do exciting deeds!"
When they reached the bottom of the downward incline, the two huge structures ended.
"Strange," Peter was thoughtful, "these things started where the hill started on the other side, and they end here on this side where the hill ends.
“It’s almost as though they're there to protect the hill.” His eyes took on a thoughtful look. "But protect the hill from what?"
"Maybe to protect it from the 'roaring monsters'? Or other horrible things!" Herb winced as he thought of such things.
"Mmm, maybe, but in the meantime where do we go from here?" Peter was experiencing a moment of uncertainty.
The path had widened a little, and had another bend which wended its way between the trees.
"What we really need is someone to ask." He nodded in agreement with himself as he spoke.
"Ask about what?" Asked a smooth voice from somewhere in the grass.
"Who's there?" Herb’s voice sounded a little nervous.
The grass slowly parted to reveal a rather handsome Snail.
"Claude Brightshell, at your service!" the Snail's voice oozed, “Claude to my friends. “
“Now what did you want to ask someone about?” He gave a broad Snail smile.
The two little frogs looked at each other. "I'm Peter and this is Herb." Peter informed the Snail.
"We've come all the way from Wingy Wood Pond. We've crossed the Vast Plain, and we've just come between these two great piles of stones,”
He pointed at one of the structures with his nose, "and we're looking for the stream!"
"Ah! The Stream;" The Snail's silky tones slipped through the air, "and you say you've just come down the path there?”
"That's right." Peter nodded.
"Well then, you've just come over it!" the Snail gave another of his big snail smiles.
"Come over what?" asked Herb.
"Come over the stream, of course." the Snail told him. He waggled his head in an amused fashion.
"But we thought the stream was wet, like the pond, but moving about and bubbling and splashing,” Peter retorted. “We haven't crossed anything like that!"
"Ho, Ho, Ho! That's a good one.” The Snail had a good laugh; the sides of his neck puffed out with the effort.
Peter and Herb looked at him with expressions of complete bewilderment on their little green faces.
The Snail’s laughing gradually subsided, his face took on a sympathetic expression, and he said in a rather fatherly manner, “The stream runs under the hill you just came over.” He emphasized the word 'hill'. "The hill is called a bridge!"
Peter looked at the snail. First there was a scornful look on his face, and then his expression changed as he worked out the snail’s meaning.
"Oh I see! Oh ho, that was a good one, Claude!" Peter chortled. "Goes under the hill - er - bridge !"
He started to laugh, then he looked at Herb, who also laughed, although Herb wasn’t quite sure what they were laughing at, he just loved to laugh!
Then the Snail started laughing again, and soon they were all gasping and holding their sides.
The Snail was the first one to regain some self-control, and he waited patiently for the two little frogs to stop chuckling and snorting.
Then he said, "Lovely to see you both but I'm going to have to dash off now.
“I've got to get to the other side of this path, so I can start feeding before it gets dark. Goodbye!”
He waggled his horns, which he had extended and turned his face in the direction that he intended to go.
(Sorry to interrupt the story, but snails can do that you know! Extend and retract their horns. They're not horns really, they're soft: more like antennae. Just thought I'd tell you)
Peter and Herb turned to see the friendly Snail go on his way. They stood waiting. Nothing happened.
Peter murmured to Herb out of the side of his mouth. "Maybe we should wave or something.”
So they both waved. "Goodbye." they both said in unison. Still nothing happened.
Then Herb grabbed Peters shoulder and pointed down at the Snails body, where it made contact with the ground.
It was slowly expanding then contracting, and, as they stood watching this curious, pulsating, undulation, they realized that the Snail was actually moving. Very slowly to be sure, but moving it was.
"Goodbye," said Peter again, "best of luck on your journey!"
"Thank you," the Snail's words slid to them silkily, "best of luck with the stream.
“Oh! and watch out for the Great Eel, he eats snails!” The Snail never turned his head when he said this; he was too intent on hurrying across the path.
"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Peter looked at Herb.
Herbs eyes took a thoughtful look. "I suppose he meant that the Great Eel eats Snails!
Although I don't know why he's telling us that! Were not snails. We'll be OK!
Your Granddad says it loves frogs and he should know! Anyway at least it looks as though the Great Eel is in the vicinity."
"Yeeess," Peter spoke very slowly, "I suppose you’re right. Hmmm," his face had a thoughtful look.
"Anyway," he brightened, "Where to next? I think we should turn left here, off the path and through the grass, where the snail came from.
“That should take us past that huge structure and then we should be near to the stream. What do you think? Hey?"
He looked at Herb expectantly.
"If you say so, it sounds good to me!" Herb nodded a little unsurely.
The two had another look at the snail, which hadn't even moved half a frog's leg since they had last looked, and then they set off at a merry pace into the grass, where the snail had appeared from.
Within a few hops they had passed the rock structure, and in another dozen or so hops they arrived on the bank of the stream.
"Made it!" Peter looked at Herb proudly.
"Made it, made it, made it!" echoed Herb, hopping up and down on one spot like a bouncing ball. He was doubly pleased by what he saw.
He’d looked at the Stream with the Bridge going over it and finally the Snails explanation became clear! He hated not being able to understand things
"Now to find that Great Eel," he chortled
They both took a little more time to have a good look at the stream. (Frogs are very interested in water you know.)
Peter's earlier description had been fairly accurate.
What lay before them was a fairly fast moving mass of splashing, bubbling water.
Much clearer than the pond water that they were accustomed to, but difficult to see into because of all the ripples and eddies on the surface.
"What do you recon we ought to do now?" Herb wanted to know.
"Wellll," Peter dragged the words out reflectively,, "We could stay here for a while to see if the Eel comes past?
“Or, - we could get into the stream and swim up it for a few hops to see if we can see him.” He looked a little indecisive.
The two friends looked around. The grass around them was quite sparse, which was lucky, because the frogs were too small to see much in long thick grass.
They could see where the stream went under the huge stone structure, which looked even bigger from where they stood.
The water gushed and splashed as it hit the rocks and the sound it made was like music to the little frogs' ears.
"It's nice here, but I think we should do something." Herb sounded impatient.
"I agree." Peter concurred, but he still looked undecided.
The two looked around again as though looking for inspiration, which they found in the form of a large Black Ant that came hurrying along the riverbank.
The Ant stood about a half of a frog's leg high, (about up to Peter’s Knee.)
"Good-day to you lads," the Ant spoke in a tinny voice, "nice to meet you,
I'm Five Hundred and Sixty Three.” Although it looked quite fearsome, it sounded so nice and polite that the two frogs took an instant liking to it
"Good day," Peter responded, "er, - Five Hundred and Sixty Three what?” He asked this in his most polite tone.
"I'm Five Hundred and Sixty Three! That's my number!
You have names, we have numbers.” The Ant said this as though he was accustomed to having to make this explanation.
"Oh, I see!" the tone of Peter's voice showed his understanding, "Well, pleased to meet you Five Hundred and Sixty Three! This is Herb and I'm Peter.
"Well - must be off! Hustle Bustle as the Queen always says.” The Ant started to dash past them.
"Hang on," Peter said hastily. The Ant stopped in mid stride.
"Er, you don't happen to know where we can catch a glimpse of the Great Eel, do you?” He looked at the Ant hopefully.
"As a matter of fact I do!" the Ant informed him. "I saw him just a short while ago. He must have been sleeping.
I happened to spot his tail in the stream first; then I had to march for ages to get up to his head.
He's just up there by that clump of grass. But I advise you to be quiet whilst you’re watching him as he's not like other fish. He can come out of the water when he likes.”
"Oh, we’ll be alright, he loves little frogs. He's a friend of Peter's Granddad." said Herb. "That's why we want to find him."
"Ho, ho," the Ant gave an imitation laugh, "that's a story worth repeating back at the ant-hill. Well it's up to you! Now I really must be off. 'Hurry-scurry' and all
that. Bye'ee.” And with that he dashed past them and disappeared into the longer grass.
The two friends watched him until he disappeared, then they turned to face the clump of grass that the Ant had pointed out to them.
"Right! Lets go." Herb's excitement was fully aroused, he turned and hopped off along the bank of the stream.
Peter followed for a few hops, and then he stopped and said, "Wait!" in a sort of loud whisper.
Herb stopped and turned to face Peter with a puzzled look on his face. "What is it?" he asked.
He was a little bit annoyed at being held back just when they were so close to the object of their journey.
"I - I just th- think we should be careful." stuttered Peter, still whispering. "After all, even if he was a friend of my Grand-dad, how will he know that I'm his Grandson?"
"Does it matter?, said Herb. "Didn't your Granddad say the Great Eel loved all little frogs?” His impatience made his voice a little hard.
"I don't know if he'd said he loved all little frogs." Peter's expression had become a little defensive.
"You see my Granddad didn't exactly tell me himself!" His face screwed up and became a little lop-sided.
"I sort of - overheard - him telling my Dad about the old times. They didn't know I was listening, so I couldn't ask questions about anything, could I?"
"So what do you think we should do now?" Herb asked. "Shall we go home?” his impatience changing instantly to a slight apprehension.
"No no! I don't think we should go home! Just--- well--, like the Ant said, we should be quiet and careful, that's all I'm saying." said Peter.
His resolve had strengthened at the sight of Herb's alarm.
Once again the pair moved off toward their goal. Although now they were doing a very slow, frogs waddle, (not a pretty sight.)
At last they reached the clump of grass the Ant had pointed out.
Very carefully they inched forward to peer into the stream.
There; with a head two hops wide, was the Great Eel. They could see one huge eye on the side of the head that was nearest to them, and this was closed, so it was sure to be asleep.
It was close in to the bank, in a quiet stretch of water.
It was darkish orange in colour and the dorsal fin was visible, all along the part of his body that was out of the water.
Their little Froggy eyes took all this in and, despite the recently acquired caution, Herb said "Wowee!" in a throaty voice.
The huge eye snapped open and the focus was sharp and instantaneously fixed on Herb.
Herb was transfixed with fear.
His lip began to dither and his legs felt as though they were turning into jelly.
A funny little gurgling noise came from his throat. "Oogroo,” it went.
The awakening of the Great Eel had momentarily shocked Peter too, but on hearing Herbs pitiful murmur he was galvanized into action.
He pushed Herb hard on the shoulder and said loudly, "Come on."
He hopped away from the stream just as fast as he could but, as fast as he was, Herb still managed to pass him.
When they were well into the long grass they stopped. They were both panting with the sudden exertion and the fear.
Peter had been looking behind them to make sure the Great Eel hadn't followed them. After a few seconds he whispered, "I think we'll be alright."
"Did you see that?" Herb's voice shook, "I thought I was a goner there, ---phew.” -- He breathed a large sigh of relief.
"Thanks for pushing me, I felt as though I was turning to jelly."
"Push you! I could have choked you when you cried out like that!”
Peter looked at Herb with a scolding frown, then his expression changed and he said "My, but that was scary. Did you see the size of that eye?"
"See it! I shall have nightmares about it for ages."
Herb's hands mimicked the size of the Eels eye in the air. "I never want to see one like it ever again as long as I live!"
After a few moments, when it seemed sure that they were out of danger, Peter looked Herb straight in the eyes,
"I want to have another look at that Eel!" his voice was steady.
"Wait here if you don’t want to come. I'm going to have another quiet look at it; if I'm really quiet it won’t know I'm there!"
Herb tried to protest, to say something at least, but his words stuck in his throat.
Very slowly, with a very pronounced frog waddle, making less sound than a Butterfly floating on a breeze, Peter made his way back to the bank of the stream.
He raised one eye over some grass until he could just see the huge head of the Great Eel.
The eye was once again closed but the head was now just breaking the surface of the water.
It was a truly majestic head; smooth and shiny. The ear was a mere slit, but it had a small curve at the end that gave it an almost Froggy appeal. The skin, too, seemed very frog-like,
Peter was just thinking the whole head could have been a frog's head it was so handsome, when it spoke; without hardly making a ripple on the water, in a quiet voice that was deep and silky,
"How do you do little frog!"
Its eyes had not opened, and for a moment, Peter thought perhaps he'd imagined it. He was pretty sure the Eel wouldn't have been able to see him, concealed as he was in the grass.
“Not feeling in the mood for conversation today?" again the silky tones seemed to float from nowhere.
This time the eye opened a little, which was not quite as scary as before.
Peter sat still for a few more moments, and then he asked in a low voice, "Are you t-t-talking to me Sir?” He inched his head a little higher from the grass.
The silky voice slid into Peters hearing once more, "There's nothing to be afraid of you know, I'm a big softy really!
“Why I love little frogs! We don't see so many around here any more, but we used to! We used to”!
“Now, why don't you come down to the water and talk to me properly? Hmmmm?”
The Eels voice was even friendlier than before.
"Tell me all about where you're from and how to get there, hmmmm."
Peter thought about what the Great Eel had said, and then he remembered what he had overheard his Granddad saying about it loving little frogs so he decided to throw caution to the winds.
"My Granddad told me about you!” His voice strengthened, and he intended to continue, but the Great Eel interrupted him.
"Don't believe all you hear," the voice was still silky but firmer, “some people will say anything just to make conversation."
"Oh, he didn't say anything bad about you," Peter hastily added to avoid any misunderstanding,
"He just said that he used to know you and that you loved little frogs!"
"Did he indeed?" the Great Eels voice, soothing and honey-like, was pleasing to Peters ears.
"A frog of great insight your Grand-dad! And no doubt a frog of great cunning too, to still be around telling stories of me!
"Oh, he is," Pride was plain in Peter voice. "Very cunning and very clever he is, my Grand-dad!
He's just about the cleverest frog in the world!” With the last of his anxiety gone Peter hopped out of the grass to the waters edge.
The Great Eel's eye opened a little wider, "My word, you are a plump and handsome little frog.
“How would you like a ride on my back? Hmmm? I could show you some of the sights of the stream before you have to go back home."
Peter thought about this suggestion for a while then, throwing off the last of his caution, he replied "I'd love to!
“But how do I get onto your back?"
"Just stay there and I'll come and get you." the Eel oozed.
He slowly moved through the water, like a dark orange submarine.
Then his head raised and slid over the grass to rest on the bank just in front of Peter.
A look of indescribable joy washed over the great face and the huge mouth started to open.
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile; Herb was standing in the long grass, wondering how long Peter was going to be and wishing that his little friend hadn't gone.
He was almost at the point of going after him when out of the long grass popped a worm's head.
"How-do, nice day isn't it?” The worm had a high, hissing voice, like a high wind whistling through the bull rush weeds. "My name’s Walter, what's yours?"
"Hello! I'm Herb."
Herb put on his pleasant tone. He'd have held out his hand to shake hands but he noticed that the worm didn't have any. (Hands, that is.)
"I'm waiting for my friend Peter."
Herb looked up at the sky, his eyes savoring the fluffy little clouds against the rich blue.
"It is a nice day isn't it?" then he looked at the worm, "Have you come far?"
He asked the question merely to express some polite interest. He was a very polite frog was Herb (Most of the time.)
"No, no, I live here! - Well - just below here actually." the worm hissed, "I'm a worm you know! We live below ground!"
"Oh!" Herb smiled as he spoke, "I've never met a worm before, pleased to meet you.”
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