Even with those bucketsful of brethren and children gone, there were still too many of us for that small of a garden. On top of having lost Rhugug and Figgug as friends and allies, the temperature was excruciating hot. Thomas was gone more and more often, which reminded me to tell Ghrruk about his plans to leave this place for good very soon.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, mildly irritated. “You had plenty of time when Rhugug and Figgug left us.”

“When I spoke in front of everyone else, I didn’t think it would have been wise to speak about that,” I explained. “Afterwards, it got out of my head. We had other problems to solve, such as our escape.”

“Escape,” she scuffed. “It will probably take too long for the hole to open enough for us to enter. There’s only a tiny hole now, so small not even a tadpole could squiggle through.”

“Well, we just got to wait,” I said calmly. “Maybe Thomas will get a few more of us in his buckets and we’ll be able to leave together. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t think we’ll be that lucky.”

After our two good brothers left us, Ghrruk had become extremely negative. The hole not decaying slowly enough wasn’t helping her mood either. She went there every single day, no matter whether many sparrows fluttered about or whether Mrs. Whibbles honked at her. She’d always find a way to pass through and check inside the kennel.

At that time, we both lost lots of weight. Food became scarce due to overpopulation. Thomas only fed us once every now and again, and it was definitely not enough for everyone. Froglets would forage the depths for quite some time after Thomas had gone, trying to find the smallest of red worms, or a dead insect underneath. Sadly, every time one of us died, it was like a feast for some. Not us, though. Not after what Thomas’s father had done in front of my own eyes.

One morning, though, Thomas returned and fed us. Who would’ve thought I’d relish on those red worms like the first foods of a tadpole?

“You guys look really skinny,” he said with a scowl. “I wonder why… You’re fed regularly and I’m sure there are plenty of insects for you to eat.”

If I weren’t that hungry, I would’ve probably thought of a response. Instead, I was fighting to slurp the smallest of worms, pushing my brethren away. I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t even think about Ghrruk’s food at that time. Yes, “The strong survive while the weak die” is a phrase that every one of us said many, many times. But she was my favorite frog, my beloved sister. Yet every time I’d get food and she didn’t, I felt so bad for her. I never had the heart to tell her I’d eaten.

“Hmmm…” Thomas pondered. “According to my book, you guys might have some sort of parasite. I wonder if I’m allowed to bring you with me.”

All my senses were focused on Thomas.

“Did you hear that?” Ghrruk cried in excitement. “He talks about bringing us somewhere. Oh! I hope he does. I hope he does. Carmine, this might be our chance to escape.”

We were both excited, hoping to escape this nightmare of famine and illness. Indeed, weakened frogs died more easily. Especially the smaller ones. They hopped through every corner of the garden, making them more prone to sickness for some reason.

“I guess I’ll have to take that chance,” Thomas said, bringing several buckets, “because I have no idea when I’ll come back next.”

Thomas began to scoop out frogs once more. This time, however, his focus was on the second pond. Not that it was a matter of cleanliness or being able to see better. Both ponds were filled with duckweed and all sorts of stuff around that time. It made the inside of the pond hard to breathe in, while outside the heat wave beat on our skin, taking every bit of moisture out in a record time.

“When will he scrape our pond?” Ghrruk asked impatiently. “Do you think we should go there and see?”

“If you want to,” I replied.

She was about to leave when she noticed I was staying put. “Not coming with me?” she asked.

“I can’t. If he sees me, he won’t bring me with him. He told me so last time.”

“So… I’ll have to go without you?”

“I’m afraid so. The time I leave is when Thomas looks for me,” I said. “As long as he’s not, no matter what I do he probably won’t bring me with him.”

Ghrruk hesitated. It was tempting for her, who wished to leave this place for a long, long time. “Couldn’t you at least try?” she pleaded.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to spend unnecessary energy when there’s so little food. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, I’ll be even more hungry.”

Her eyes closed and, after a moment of consideration, she let herself sink. “I can’t do it without you,” she said. “We leave together or we don’t.”

“Thank you.”

To our greatest disappointment, Thomas only caught frogs in the second pond and left with them. He waved us goodbye, saying he’ll return in a few weeks or so. Reflecting about all those words he had taught us, I supposed that it meant he’d be back around the end of the warm season. Which didn’t help Ghrruk’s mood at all.

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing he took all those frogs with him, isn’t it?” I said, trying to cheer her up. “More food for us, and they’ll live a happy life.”

Ghrruk opened her mouth but quickly shut it. It was apparent that spending energy on arguing wasn’t worth it. I felt bad for her. Like it was my fault she didn’t go. And maybe it was, though I never meant for her to be dependent on my choices.

To make matters even worse, a froglet passing by the twin rocks looked excited when he saw us resting there.

“You’re Carmine, aren’t you?” he asked, flickering his eyes very fast.

“Yes,” I replied, barely raising my head. “Why do you ask?”

“Did you see Thomas scoop up frogs in the other pond?” I gave him a slight nod. “One of the frogs he caught shouted as he was being captured. ‘Tell Carmine I’m free,’ he said.”

Ghrruk immediately jumped up and swam closer to the froglet. “Rhugug? Figgug?” she asked, her voice seemingly distraught.

“It was Figgug, the one with the missing fingers.”

“Oh, no… Poor Figgug,” she moaned. “He who wanted nothing else but to stay here and live a happy life.”

“Really?” said the froglet. “Is that what he said?” We both nodded. “Well, you don’t need to worry about him, then. He shouted that to me – since we were good friends – but he seemed happy. In fact, after shouting he was croaking, looking elated.”

We were speechless. Figgug, the one frog who didn’t want to get caught was happy to leave this garden? Nothing made sense anymore.

“Are you certain it wasn’t Rhugug?” I asked. “The frog with a long scar on his back.”

The froglet flinched at the mention of Rhugug’s name.

“What now? What’s wrong?” asked Ghrruk.

“Well, Rhugug is dead.”

“DEAD?” we both yelled at the same time. “How? When?”

“We found him near the hole under the door,” began the froglet. “He was but skin on skeleton, and completely dried out. Must’ve been dead for a few days at that point.”

“When was this?” I asked, partially wondering how this froglet had such great knowledge of human time. I assumed Figgug must’ve taught him.

“Two days ago.”

I glanced at Ghrruk. She was devastated. Figgug gone. Rhugug dead.

“Maybe that’s why Figgug was so happy,” the froglet speculated. “Figgug was very thin, too, and sad every day after he learned about Rhugug’s death.”

We thanked the froglet and stayed silent for a long time.

“What now?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“We wait,” Ghrruk replied. “That’s all we can do. Wait. And hope.”

Hope arrived much quicker than we had expected in the form of Thomas. Once again, he took as many frogs with him as he could. This time, however, Ghrruk had tried to get scooped with the others. It didn’t work out for her, and she beat herself up for losing her time and precious energy like that, while I remained motionless at the bottom of our pond.

“Should’ve stayed with you,” she said, a trail of bubbles leaving her nostrils many times again.

“You can’t know until you tried,” I said, though I thought she was telling the truth.

Before Thomas left, this time, he hit the fly on the lily pad.

“My friends,” he said solemnly. “I have big news for you all. Today is the last day we will meet in a long time.”

Ah, the day has come…

“I’ll be going to college, far, far away from here, and I won’t be able to come here every day,” he continued. “I will come back home from time to time. Maybe this year, maybe next year. I’ll see. That’s why I try to get as many of you as possible out of here because I know I won’t be able to take care of this garden and of your ponds. Dad promised me he’d keep an eye on all the frogs, but…” He paused, biting his lip. “Don’t keep your expectations too high. He’s very busy and to be honest, it’s apparent he doesn’t like frogs.”

Except when he eats them. Not much meat on us anymore, though, so he’ll probably leave us alone. I hope.

“So, that’s about it,” he beamed. Not to rejoice in our misery, but because he seemed genuinely happy to leave this place. I understood him very well, and I was certain I’d be the same. Even Figgug, one of the laziest and walled garden-loving frogs I knew, was exalted when he was caught. “I’ll release these.” He raised the buckets. “Next time I come, I’ll try to release even more of you. If it’s next year, I might need a few more buckets, though,” he laughed. “So don’t lay too many eggs, all right? Well then, see you not-too-soon!”

One last wave and he was gone. Our last hope to leave this place. Gone. Vanished.

Ghrruk seemed to have lost any hope. She’d only trudge towards the kennel once every now and then, staying near the twin rocks with me most of the time. It was miserable. But not as much as the colder season.

Once the warmth seeped out of the garden and the leaves started to fall, things seemed to be a little better for us. Buckets upon buckets had left, meaning we had less food to share. Then, the rotting leaves brought many insects with them. We spent our days in the litterfall underneath the spiked trees, trying to gobble up as many insects as we could before the real cold struck and we had to go into hibernation.

The same could not be said for all of us. Many perished with the end of the warmth. The younger frogs were the most active, dying out quickly. It saddened us to see then go. Some were our own children. Of course, it was nothing like those sparrows losing their eggs. We had laid hundreds of eggs, and were not as attached to them as birds or other animals. To us, our children weren’t precious. Important, yes, but not precious. After all, we could get hundreds more in a few months’ time.

What saddened me a little was that the children of Rhugug were dying. Our children. I would probably live to lay many more eggs. He was dead and had only those he had with me. A few of them escaped through the buckets, so his legacy lives on, albeit in the deep unknown of a faraway pond.

Time came for us to slumber under the mud. Yet this year, Ghrruk had another idea.

“Why not hibernate under the litterfall this time?” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” I said, thinking about all kinds of complications this would present. “Surely, we would have direct access to food once we wake up. Problem is that it’s not as safe there as it is here. Who knows what could happen above the ground during the real cold season? We’d be asleep with no way to know. We could die in our sleep, even.”

She stared at me as if it was the first time she saw me. “I guess you’re right,” she ultimately ended up saying. “Part of me wanted to experience something new and exciting. The prospect of dying, however, doesn’t really speak to me.”

“Good,” I said.

Trudging back from the litterfall to the pond, we were, as usual, lucky not to encounter Mrs. Whibbles. At least, she was being fed every few days by Thomas’s father. We were envious. Resentful, perhaps.

In our pond, we helped covering our respectful bodies and wished each other a good night before entering our usual deep slumber.