Toad

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” the toad said, and gave a little croak.

Despite his insistence, the princess held onto him, cupping him in her slender but chilly fingers. “But I’ve searched all over these woods. You’ve no idea how many toads I’ve had to kiss, thinking they were you.”

The toad squirmed and might have hopped away if she hadn’t been holding him so tightly. “You’ve been kissing other toads?”

“That’s hardly fair. You all look the same to me.”

He kicked, but she caught him mid-air. She’d always had quick reflexes.

“Kiss whoever you like,” the toad said. “I’m not going back to that castle. It’s better out here. No rules, no wars, and especially no politics.”

“What about snakes and owls?” she argued. “Must be difficult, always looking over your shoulder, fearing for your life.”

“Posh,” said the toad. “No different than courtly life. The lies, the deceptions, the constant vigilance against spies and kidnappings. I’m perfectly happy here.”

“What about me?” she asked, and tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m sure that witch would love turning you into a toad too. King’s only child and all— it’d create quite a scandal.” The toad paused. “You better put me down. Your fingers are cold. I have to pee.”

She set him in a pile of oak leaves and turned, giving him some privacy. While she waited, she regarded the deeper woods to her right and the guard towers rising over the treetops to her left. “Will you wait for me?”

A mosquito buzzed past the toad just then. “I’ll be here,” he croaked, then he flicked his tongue and caught it expertly. The princess watched this and gave a little shudder. “Just be sure and kiss the right one next time.”