Hefting his spear Cludd advanced on the cloaked figure. “You just leave it to me, Majesty. Right, Patchcoat, let’s settle this once and for all,” he challenged.

Skipper stepped out of the tendrils of mist, shedding the cloak. “I’m ready for you, weasel. The one you called Patchcoat was my brother. You’re not fit to lick his paws. I will give you your cloak back to take with you to the gates of Dark Forest; they have a special place for cowards there.”

Stung by the insult, Cludd bellowed with rage as he charged.

Skipper allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. Flexing his powerful limbs, he hurled himself like an uncoiling spring at the oncoming weasel. Disregarding weapons, the two creatures locked together on the ground, snarling and tearing at each other like savage beasts.

* * *

Martin, Dinny and Log-a-Log struggled helplessly, floundering about in the net like fish out of water. The more they moved, the tighter they were entwined. Martin realized this, and lay still.

“I am Martin the Warrior,” he called out. “These are my friends Dinny and Log-a-Log. Why have you done this to us? We mean you no harm. We are only travelers passing through. Turn us loose, please.”

The toads turned to each other. They made unintelligible clicking and golloping noises, seeming to find the whole business highly amusing. Their leader jabbed warningly at the captives. “Krrrglug, yukyuk! Quiet-now, furmouse. Dampwatchsay comenow.”

The prisoners were dragged unceremoniously along the muddy ground. Other toads came out of the mist to join the procession. When they finally reached their destination, the captives were surrounded by a veritable army of the creatures.

The leader threw the net ends over a stake driven into the ground. He spread his webbed claw membranes. “Krrplok! Seehere, onemole twomouse, Marshgreen saywhat?”

Seated on a huge fungus carved into the likeness of a high throne was a toad bigger than the rest. Far more repulsive, too. It had no warts and was a slimy wet green color. Its great translucent eyes filmed over as it blinked at the captives. Fireflies danced in opaque plant-holders, and four more toads stood guard around the throne with tridents. The big toad gave an ungainly hop down to the ground and stood in front of the trio, blinking ceaselessly, its great wobbly throat pulsating.

“Krrklok! Goodfind, Dampwatch. Furmouse make-happy Marshgreen.”

Martin decided that politeness was at an end. They were being treated like trophies. The warrior mouse’s voice was loud and angry. “See here Marshgreen, or whatever they call you. You’ve no right to treat us like this. Now set us free, this instant!” he demanded.

The assembly of toads gave a bubbly cry of shock at the blatant disrespect to their ruler.

Marshgreen inflated his throat until it swelled like a balloon. His eyes bulged like button mushrooms.

“Splakkafrott! Mouthshut mousefur. Cheekybeast. Takethree, throwin Screamhole.”

The company of toads waddled and hopped excitedly, brandishing their tridents. “Krrrplakoggle! Screamhole, throwin Screamhole!”

“Look over there,” Log-a-Log whispered to Martin. “I might have known it wouldn’t be spring without those two weeds sprouting again.”