Free The Hop by Sharelle Byars Moranville

fighting off the darkness. He had to catch the queen and kiss her. He had to. But the darkness was stronger than he was, and it finally won.
    When Tad woke up, he felt something moist and soft moving along his back, over the warts and bumps behind his eyes, down his face, and across the tops of his hands. He felt as if he had been peeled.
    He opened his eyes.
    â€œRest,” a young hopper said. “We’re trying to help you.”
    An old toad handed the hopper a fresh rose petal. She dipped it in an acorn-cap bowl and went back to rubbing Tad.
    He tumbled into darkness again.
    When he next opened his eyes, the girl hopper was gone, but Tad could tell he was better. The old toad who’d been there earlier had a boy hopper with him now. They gazed at Tad solemnly.
    Was it day or night? Where was Buuurk? Where was the queen? He had to kiss the queen! He tried a hop.
    â€œEasy now. You got a dose of evil snow,” the old toad said. “But you’re going to be okay. Evil snow makes the yellow flowers die. It makes the toads die sometimes. Thank the Toad-in-the-Moon you’re still here! We thought it was snake eyes for you.”
    â€œWhere’s my friend?” Tad asked. Where was the queen?
    â€œHe got you back here,” the old toad answered. “Then he went to get the queen.”
    The young hopper who had sat silently until now said, “Your friend was very brave.”
    It took Tad a few heartbeats to begin to make out the meaning of those words. He didn’t fully understand until he heard Seer’s voice in his head. A coward dies a thousand deaths. A brave toad dies but one.
    Tad wished he had the pain of the burning evil snow back, so it could twine with the pain in his heart. He shut his eyes and sat very still. He wanted the old toad and young hopper to go away.
    After a while, they did.
    He sat in the darkness. He could still smell the sweetness of the rose petals they’d used to wash him. He felt the earth quiver a little beneath his belly as the toads of Toadville-by-Birdbath went about their business.
    As soon as he could carry the weight of his sadness, he set out for the rock. The sky was turning from dark to light. A mist was falling.
    When he scrambled up onto the rock and perched in his old place, he felt like the world had been cleaved in half and he had been left standing unbearably lonely on the edge. And the queen was gone.
    A crow, cawing at the roaring stinky things that threatened its breakfast, was making a meal of Buuurk. A few times, the crow flew angrily away, then returned with a flap of black wings and hovered over the remains of Buuurk’s body, taking it up into the Great Cycle.
    When the crow was gone, Tad sat for a while in the drizzle before he made his way back to Toadville-by-Birdbath.
    The next evening, they feasted in Buuurk’s honor. The Head Toad led them in the ritual of remembering that was much like it was at home. Tad’s heart felt crushed by his longing for Seer and Shyly and Anora. If they were still living and if he made it home alive, he would tell them Buuurk had given his life to try to catch the queen.
    â€œRemember the things that we have eaten,” the Head Toad croaked.
    Tad had eaten very little today, but he remembered the aphids.
    â€œRemember the things that have eaten us.”
    Tad remembered the crow with gratitude. The big black bird had quickly taken up his friend into the eternal cycle of life.
    â€œAnd remember those who have been eaten. Especially the brave young hopper, Buuurk.”
    Tad felt the pain squeeze his heart until he thought he might faint. He had to get some air.
    He hopped into the darkness.
    He nearly fell over the praying mantis standing in the pouring rain. It gazed at Tad. With a slow movement of its long arm, it pointed. And it pointed away from the RENO shape.
    What should he do?
    Seer said to follow the direction the mantises pointed.
    Feeling like only half a toad, he