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Elliot came to beneath the dusky rising moon with his tail wrapped in silk. At his side, Cassandra lay with her head on his chest. The King sat dozing at his foot. Barry was nowhere to be seen.
“What happened?” Elliot asked.
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“When the Party ended,” King Arnie confided, “the trouble began.
“Everyone in Bog lined up to watch the Suns of Glory lead the residents of Fen back home. My critics grew increasingly restive as the Lady Persephone-less parade passed them by. When the last of our Fen friends had crossed the border and she still hadn’t, the whispers spread.”
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“Her name was Persephone, and it was my own fault I lost her. If I’d only known then what I know now…” King Arnie’s voice, at first a whisper, died altogether under the weight of his memory.
“What happened, Your Greatness?” Elliot prompted him.
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The King’s words faded to a wistful smile. His eyes closed as though he were admiring a cherished treasure he shared with no one else.
Elliot waited.
Two large tears squeezed out beneath the monarch’s eyelids to slip down his pale green cheeks and splash their saltiness on the ground at his feet.
Elliot’s voice gently reminded His Greatness that he wasn’t alone. “I’ve heard only how cruel war can be. What good did it bring you?”
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The King stared at something far away and long ago that Elliot couldn’t see. When His Greatness spoke, there was such sad longing in his voice that Elliot’s heart wept.
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“My future?” Before his eyes, the kindling dawn flared into a tangerine sky. Elliot’s breath caught in his chest. His thoughts caught in his mouth. His imagination soared beyond his tail’s slicing burn to fill his mind with light and hidden possibilities.
“Yes, Elliot, your future,” King Arnie repeated. “I’ve been around a long time, son — may I call you ‘son’?” he inquired, waiting politely for a reply.
Elliot had recently developed a healthy skepticism regarding the motivations of strangers, but now he began to realize he should temper his caution by listening when the little voice named Instinct spoke.
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“Your Greatness, noble King Arnie da Former,” Barry called from the edge of the pool, bowing so low his chin touched the water, “please allow me ta present Cassandra and Elliot, adventurers from far away, here seekin’ asylum in da peaceful Kingdom of Bog.”
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Barry’s powerful frog kicks launched them forward so quickly, in moments they had left the burning woods and its evil spirit behind. They streaked on in utterly dark wetness.
Elliot had no idea how far they were below the surface nor how soon — if ever — they would rise to the top. The bubble trapped in his shell gave little buoyancy under the weight that compressed his world into a compact snail-shaped hole in the river.
If I felt like this on dry land, I would break out in a cold sweat. I hope my dear Cassandra doesn’t suffer in the same way.
Would he live to find out? The gash in his tail seared like molten lava. Speckles were beginning to float before his eyes, and he feared the coming of a darker shade of black.
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“Take a deep breath and hold on!” Barry shouted to his passengers.
They burst through the front line of the fire into a clearing on the edge of the river. Elliot shot a last look over his shoulder. Yvonne was gaining on them. We’re goners, he thought, closing his eyes against their imminent violent end.
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Elliot pitched the sweat-soaked lump of fluff at Yvonne’s head as Cassandra launched herself onto Barry’s back. Elliot vaulted up behind her and stuck himself to her shell as Barry plunged from branch to branch, closer and closer to the flaming hell below.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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