Thomas seemed distant for the longest of times. He still came to feed us, but his visits had grown brief and his conversations almost nonexistent. Something inside him had changed. And we all knew why.

As the days became colder, they also seemed to shorten. Whether due to the lack of sunlight and the cold, or both, I couldn’t tell. But everyone ate less than usual. Thomas noticed and adjusted his feeding schedule, reducing it to once after school. At first, he fed us in the mornings because he returned home after dark, but it made little difference. By the time he came by, the shadows of the night had already descended upon us.

One day, Thomas placed something in the garden, at the base of the big birch. It was round and orange with a strong, inviting smell. Several holes covered the part that faced our pond, but none of us dared to go near it.

“It’s a pumpkin,” Thomas explained. “I carved a few of those for Halloween. Thought you guys might be happy if I dropped one in the garden. I hope it won’t scare you, though.” He laughed and headed back home.

The pumpkin didn’t spark excitement for us. Not until much later, when it began to rot and grow patches of green and white stuff. We couldn’t eat that malodorous ball of orange, of course, but it attracted insects. Lots of them. And where insects swarmed, so did frogs. The pumpkin quickly became our new favorite spot, especially now the cat was no more.

A variety of tasty new bugs appeared, such as pumpkin beetles and tiny flies trapped in the rotting juices. Slugs and snails also gathered around, but they were too big to eat, so we left them alone. The abundance of those delectable delicacies meant we barely touched the red worms Thomas continued to bring, many of which sank and became part of the sediment.

“Humpf,” Rhugug grumbled as we feasted on bugs near the pumpkin. “Too cold to enjoy food.”

“We eat less, sure, but it’s still tasty,” Ghrruk said with a mouthful, juices from a squished insect dripping from her mouth.

Rhugug watched her with an air of disgust. “Ugh!” he grunted, trudging toward the pond.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked. “He’s usually much more jovial. Anything happened that I don’t know about?”

“It’s the cold,” Figgug said, slowly emerging from behind the pumpkin. His movements were as sluggish as his speech. “I can feel it too. My legs won’t move as quickly as they used to. At least we have good food here.”

“Mine too,” Ghrruk added, relieved to find someone who understood how she’d been feeling lately. “The effort to wake up and swim to the surface feels exhausting. Yet I’m not as hungry as I used to be.”

“Then why are you here?” Figgug asked shrewdly, licking the saps around his mouth. “You could leave these savory tidbits for us and enjoy your muddy red worms instead. Why bother coming here?”

“That’s exactly my issue,” she said. “If I stop making the effort, I’m afraid I might never rise again. Besides, these bugs are one of the few things that still bring me joy, lately.”

Her words made my head droop slightly. Ghrruk noticed and quickly added, “You know what I mean, Carmine. I enjoy your company, I really do. It’s just that we don’t talk much anymore, do we? We sleep together, throng together, but always in the cold. Nobody feels like talking or doing much of anything for that matter.”

I thought about it and nodded. “I guess you’re right,” I said, spitting out part of the bug I was chewing on. The cold, coupled with all the talking, had made me lose my appetite. “Maybe I’ll leave the pumpkin and follow Rhugug back home.”

Figgug didn’t even try to hide his delight. He hopped in a small circle, happy that one fewer frog would be sharing the bugs, leaving him to pilfer himself on even more of them.

As I made my way back to the pond, my body felt unusually heavy. I looked up at the grey afternoon sky.

Clouds, I said to myself. No sunlight today, either. Grim days… I guess I should be happy it’s not raining. Would be freezing if it did.

In front of the pond,  I was ready to leap off – or rather, let myself fall off – in the water when I noticed a small group of frogs slogging off to the pointed trees.

“Hey!” I called after them, “Hey, where are you going? The pumpkin is under the big birch, not the spiked trees.”

Only one of them bothered to turn around and shouted, “We don’t care about the pumpkin; nobody’s hungry anymore. We’re headed to the litterfall. The water’s too cold for us. Maybe we’ll find some warmth beneath the sticks and leaves.”

“It’s dangerous, you know. There are birds and Mrs. Whibbles. And – and who knows when another cat or predator might show up?”

The frog’s body sagged, as though he regretted answering me in the first place. “The birds have been gone for a while. The cat’s dead. And Mrs. Whibbles… I guess we’ll manage. She’s always sleeping under that roof of hers, tucked in the warmth of those yellow bush sticks. Good bye now.”

With that, he trudged on.

What a weird frog, I thought as I splashed into the frigid water, blowing a few bubbles to let my body slowly falter to the bottom instead of wasting energy swimming. I did move my legs just enough to guide me to my usual hideout between the twin stones.

Another day passed. By the time I noticed Ghrruk and Figgug sleeping beside me, morning had come. It was a chilly morning. Part of me secretly wished I had followed the frogs to the litterfall under the pointed trees the day before. Those dead leaves and sticks seemed so much warmer than the pond’s cold water and mud.

That’s when I realized something was wrong with my body. I couldn’t move at all. My mind didn’t function as well as usual, and I had a hard time thinking. Even my jaw could barely move. Trudging around with great difficulty, I felt that there was something else that didn’t feel right.

What is the matter with this place. What is – oh! Rhugug.

I glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen. Panicked, I immediately woke the two others up.

“Rhugug isn’t here,” I said. The words coming out were sluggish, as if my mouth refused to move any more than necessary.

“Sure he is,” Figgug murmured groggily. With one leg, he listlessly brushed off some nearby sediment, and, sure enough, there he was, immobile, as if frozen solid. “See? He’s fast asleep.”

I crept closer to Rhugug and placed my fingers on his body. His skin felt much colder than usual. “Are you certain he’s just… sleeping?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Carmine, I’m sure.”

“But,” I said, touching his body again, “he doesn’t move at all. And he feels so cold.”

Figgug’s eyes were droopy. He muttered something incoherent, trying to dig himself back to sleep.

“Figgug?”

“Hmm? What? Oh yes,” he mumbled, opening his eyes once more. “Rhugug, yes? He’s just like the other frogs. He’s asleep. Too cold, you see.”

His response confused me even further. “Like the other frogs?” I repeated. “What do you mean by that?”

“Yes, Carmine, like the other frogs,” Ghrruk chimed in, finally awake by all the ruckus. “They either bury themselves in the mud or leave the pond to nestle under the litterfall and slumber. I mean, it is cold after all, isn’t it?”

My fingers brushed over Rhugug’s rigid body. “And you’re absolutely sure he’s not dead?”

Ghrruk also ran her fingers along the long scar on Rhugug’s back. “If the other frogs are doing it, maybe it’s what we’re meant to do as well, don’t you think? It’s not like the weather is getting any warmer. On the contrary, I feel like I might burrow into the mud any time now.”

“Same here,” said Figgug. “I feel so sleepy, and still so full from all those bugs we ate yesterday. Might’ve eaten too many of them, to tell you the truth.”

For an instant, I considered making a joke about how I should’ve stayed motionless like Rhugug. But I was too lethargic to utter that many words. Then, I was taken by a sudden urge to dig into the sediment and lie there until the warmth returned. I almost envied Rhugug, sleeping there, immovable, unaware of the cold creeping up on us. The thought of it felt natural, yet scary at the same time. I wasn’t entirely sure of what to do. Explaining this to Ghrruk and Figgug seemed far too exhausting. Everything felt dull and tiresome. And cold. But my instinct urged me to do it.

Instead of beginning a longwinded explanation, I simply said, “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I feel the same.” My legs were moving automatically, working hard to push the sediment, bit by bit. “I don’t know why… I feel… so… sleepy… even though I just woke up.”

Ghrruk approached, her snout almost touching mine. “Then, my dear Carmine,” she said with her lovely voice, soothing my numb mind, “I think the time has come for you to join Rhugug. Dig! Tuck yourself into the cozy mud and let your body do the rest.”

She made an attempt to help with the digging but quickly gave up. She was understandably drained, like me and the rest of us.

Ghrruk stayed beside me, contemplating my work, slowly carving out a hollow in the mud. When I was nearly done digging my hole, she said, “I don’t fully understand those things myself, you know. All I know is that it feels natural, the right thing to do. For you, the time is now. For me and Figgug, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow.”

“Probably today,” Figgug said from the comfort of his patch of mud.

I slid inside my hole. With great effort, I used my hind legs to push the mud back over my body. It was harder than I had anticipated. Even more strenuous than digging the hole itself, maybe.

I should’ve gone with those frogs to the trees, I thought with some regret. It would have been so much easier. Walking over the fence, through the grass, on the litterfall, and wiggle under those leaves.

Most of my body was covered. Ghrruk was saying something. I wish I could reply, but her lovely voice barely reached my ears. Soon, every part of my body was buried beneath the mud. Ghrruk approached to fill in the spots I had missed.

Missed, I thought. I’m going to miss you, Ghrruk.

I wondered why I was thinking about that. It felt as though this were the end of my life, that the cold would slowly kill me at the bottom of our pond.

The last bits of mud settled over me, covering my entire body. Even my eyes were beneath the ground. Then, my body went still, frozen in place. I closed my eyes and was greeted by total darkness.

What is this feeling? I wondered. My heart… it’s slowing. My thoughts are fading. I can barely… barely…

And yet, I wasn’t afraid. I simply observed what was happening, detached from the changes overtaking me. The rhythm I was accustomed to waned, and consciousness was slipping away in the darkness. A darkness unlike the one when I closed my eyes. An impalpable nothingness, colorless, odorless, yet… comforting.

I felt at peace. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. My senses were gone. My mind was gone. Just like Ghrruk had told me, I knew it was what I meant to do. Knowing Rhugug’s frozen body lay next to mine put my mind more at ease. You’d think it’d be the opposite. I was surprised as well.

Though I could no longer form coherent thoughts at that point, I’m certain to have heard a soft murmur, Ghrruk’s voice bubbling in my ear, “Good night, Carmine. See you when you wake up.”