Both Splook and Freyda looked around for something to help them. Too bad they couldn’t find an old boat, like the kids in the books Splook liked reading. In Jamie, Jackie, and the Icky Island, this kind of thing had happened, and Jamie had spotted a rotting boat floating near the bank.
“Look, Splook!” Freyda’s voice brought him back from his thoughts.
“What? I was thinking!” Splook said. Freyda pointed at a patch of water lilies. “What’s so special about water lilies?” he asked. Then he got it. Lily pads! “Of course!” he exclaimed. “They float!” he had jumped off some of them into the pond last week when he was swimming. But what could they paddle with? He hadn’t brought anything to use like that! Splook jumped towards his sister, and tripped over a stick. “Ooff!” Splook grunted. He landed in a pile of leaves. Hmm. There was something purple in there. “Purple? What is purple in a swamp??” he thought.
“Are you okay, Splook?” Freyda asked.
“Fine,” he croaked as he hopped to his feet.
“Cool!” Freyda said. “Look what I found!” She was looking at another purple object like the one that Splook had seen, sticking out of the leaves.
“Hey! That’s my surfboard!” Splook said. His parents had given it to him for Christmas. They had told him over and over that there were no waves to surf in their little marsh, but he wouldn’t listen.
“So?” he had said, “I still want one.” So finally, his Mama and Daddy Frog decided to get him one. He had fun with it, but one night last week, he had forgotten it, and left it outside. There had been a storm, and his surfboard had gotten broken. It had still floated, but Splook wasn’t happy.
“What will I do with twelve pieces of a surfboard?” he had asked.
Now, however, he knew exactly what he would do with his surfboard pieces! “Grab a piece, Freyda!” Splook said. She did. Splook grabbed a piece too. He was very happy. Now they had paddles, and a lily pad boat, too!
Freyda helped Splook paddle the lily pad away from the swamp bank. It looked like a cloud was sleeping on top of the water. They could just barely see the Cinnamon Flies’ island in front of them. It stood out against the rest of the swamp like a dark smudge. Splook’s stomach growled. It was so loud that Freyda heard it!
“Are you hungry, Splook?” she asked.
“Not really,” Splook replied. He was a little hungry, but he didn’t want to stop now. He looked at Freyda. “Paddle harder. We’ll eat when we get to the Island.” The island grew closer… closer… closer still.
“Grrruuuuhhhh” A noise echoed over the water.
“I thought you weren’t hungry, Splook, but your tummy just growled again.”
“Huh? That wasn’t me, Freyda. It must have been you.” Splook said.
“But…” Freyda glanced at him, worriedly. “Splook… If it wasn’t you, and I know it wasn’t me, then-” Both frogs looked at each other, alarm written on their faces.
“Who was it?” they croaked together.
“Grrruuuuhhhh” There was that noise again. It sounded closer this time. Splook heard a loud breathing noise, and casting a glance at Freyda, he knew it wasn’t her. He stared ahead, into the shadows. The mist made it look dark. Splook hadn’t known that this Cinnamon Fly hunting would take so long. The wind blew, and through the mist, Splook saw a pair of gleaming eyes.