The Princess And The Frog

First, she tried to reach the ball with a long willow branch. She found one beside the pond and stretched it over the water. The branch touched the ball, but the ball spun away.

Elara moved one step to the left and tried again.

This time, the branch slid through the mud. Her foot slipped, and she landed on the grass with a soft plop.

Her dress picked up a brown spot.

Elara looked at the muddy mark. Then she looked at the ball.

“I can do this myself,” she said.

She stood and searched near the garden wall. A little wooden bench rested under a tree. Elara dragged it toward the pond, though it scraped loudly over the stones. She placed it at the bank and climbed onto it.

From there, she could reach farther.

She stretched her arm.

Her fingers brushed the cold water.

The ball drifted away.

Elara reached again, but the bench wobbled. She jumped down before it could tip. The pond made a quiet lapping sound, as if it were whispering to itself.

Elara sat on the bench and hugged her knees.

The palace gardens had always been easy to explore. She knew where the roses grew, where the butterflies rested, and where the gardeners kept their bright red watering cans. She knew how to climb the low apple tree and how to find the sweetest strawberries.

But she did not know how to cross a deep pond.

She looked at the ball floating in the moonlight. It had been a gift from her grandmother, and its smooth golden surface held a tiny picture of a star. Elara had carried it everywhere since she was small.

“I should have been more careful,” she murmured.

A small voice answered from the reeds.

“Careful is useful. But help can be useful too.”

Elara turned.

A green frog sat on a flat stone near the water. He was no bigger than her hand. His round eyes shone in the moonlight, and his throat puffed gently when he spoke.

Elara blinked. “Did you say that?”

“I did,” said the frog.

Elara leaned closer, but she stayed on the firm grass. “Can you talk?”

“Only when I have something to say,” replied the frog. “And you have something floating in my pond.”

Elara glanced at the golden ball. “It is not yours. It is mine.”

“I know,” said the frog. “I can see that you want it back.”

“Can you get it?”

The frog looked toward the center of the pond. “I can swim where you cannot. The pond is deep near the lilies, and the mud is slippery for feet that are not made for water.”

Elara looked down at her muddy slipper. “I already noticed.”

The frog gave a soft croak that sounded almost like a chuckle, but he did not laugh at her. “I will bring your ball back if you make me a promise.”

“What promise?”

“Let me share your table at the palace,” said the frog. “And let me share your friendship.”

Elara stared at him.

The frog sat very still. A tiny beetle crawled across the stone beside him, and he moved one foot so it could pass.

“My table?” Elara asked.

“And your friendship,” he said. “I do not need a golden plate. A little bowl would be fine. I would like to hear music and see the warm palace lights.”

Elara pictured the long dining table inside the palace. She imagined the cooks carrying in warm bread, sweet berries, and bowls of soup. Then she imagined a frog sitting beside her.

Her face grew warm.

“That would be strange,” she said.

“Perhaps,” said the frog. “But strange is not always bad.”

Elara looked again at the golden ball. It bobbed farther from the bank. A small wave nudged it toward the lily pads.

She tried to think of another way. Perhaps a gardener would come soon. Perhaps she could find a longer stick. Perhaps she could tie two branches together with a ribbon.

But the garden was quiet. The gardeners had gone home, and the palace doors were far behind her. The ball drifted farther each moment.

Elara pressed her lips together. She had wanted to solve the problem alone. She had tried the branch. She had tried the bench. Neither had worked.

The frog waited without rushing her.

At last, Elara said, “If you bring back my ball, I promise you may share my table and my friendship.”

The frog bowed his green head. “A promise should be kept.”

“I will keep it,” Elara said, though a small uneasy feeling fluttered inside her.

The frog slipped into the pond.

Plip.

His smooth green back moved through the water. He swam past the reeds, beneath the shining lilies, and toward the golden ball. Elara watched him disappear under the dark surface.

For a moment, she saw nothing but ripples.

Then two bright eyes appeared.

The frog ducked down again. The ball rocked once, twice, and began to move toward the bank. Elara crouched on the grass, careful not to lean too far.

“Come on,” she whispered. “You can do it.”

The ball stopped near a lily stem.

The frog pushed it with his nose.

The stem bent away, and the ball rolled back toward him. He nudged it again, but the water carried it sideways.

Elara spotted a fallen branch floating near the reeds.

“Try pushing from that side!” she called.

The frog turned his head. “Good idea!”

He swam around the ball. With one strong kick, he sent a little wave toward it. The wave carried the ball closer to shore.

Elara reached out, but it was still too far away.

“Not yet,” said the frog. “The mud will take your slipper.”

Elara pulled her foot back. She remembered how quickly the bank had slipped beneath her before.

The frog pushed the ball once more. This time, it floated right beside the flat stone.

Elara stretched from the firm grass and caught it with both hands.

“I have it!”

The ball was cold and wet. Moonlight gleamed on its golden surface, and the tiny star carved into it shone brightly.

Elara hugged it to her chest.

The frog climbed onto the stone and shook water from his head. Tiny drops flew into the air like beads.

“There,” he said. “Your ball is safe.”

“Thank you,” Elara replied.

She wanted to feel only happy, but the promise sat beside her happiness. It felt like a small stone in her pocket.

The frog looked toward the palace. “Shall we go to your table now?”

Elara glanced at the tall windows glowing across the garden. She imagined entering with muddy slippers and a dripping frog. She imagined the servants stopping to stare. She imagined everyone asking questions.

The warm palace suddenly seemed very far away.

“Tonight?” she asked.

“You promised,” said the frog gently.

Elara looked down at the ball. Her fingers tightened around it.

“I - I need to take this inside first,” she said. “My family will be waiting.”

“I understand,” said the frog. “I can follow.”

Elara took one step toward the palace.

The frog hopped after her.

Elara stopped. She heard the soft tap of his feet on the stones.

“Please wait here,” she said.

The frog tilted his head. “But you promised me your table and your friendship.”

“I know,” Elara said. “I have not forgotten.”

She looked at his wet green face. He had crossed the deep, muddy pond for her. He had not complained when the ball drifted away. He had even warned her not to slip.

Elara felt grateful.

She also felt uneasy.

“I will come back,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

The frog watched her carefully. “Will you?”

Elara nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

Then she hurried across the garden, holding the golden ball close. Her slippers tapped over the stone path. Behind her, the frog remained beside the pond, quiet beneath the moon.

At the palace steps, Elara turned once.

He was still there.

The pond shimmered behind him, and the garden smelled of wet earth and roses. Elara pressed the ball to her heart. She had what she wanted, but the night no longer felt quite the same.

She had learned that even a princess could need help, and a promise made in kindness should never be forgotten.

End of chapter one. 5 more chapters in the full book.