The Frog at the Top of Frosty Mountain

Darkness Falls

The path to the highway was getting harder to follow by the minute. The forest was getting closer on both sides of the trail, and in some stretches even swallowed up all traces of the forest. The sun was getting low, the annoying buzz of moquitos filled the air, and the Pigeon looked more lost than ever.

"Are you sure you know we're going in the right direction?" The Author asked as he slapped a bug off his neck.

"Of course!" The Pigeon exclaimed, sounding slightly offended by the question. "I did tell you I was a courier pigeon in the war, didn't I? I had to fly with bombs exploding up all around me, and I was still able to reach where I needed to go every time."

"Yeah, but you weren't over 90 years old back then...How long do pigeons live anyway?"

"With today's sanitary conditions? A couple weeks. But back in my day, I've met pigeons who were hundreds of years old. I met a pigeon whose brother came to America on a pirate ship! Can you believe that? The pirates on the ship called him their lucky land gull."

"Less storytelling, more focusing on the path."

"Okay, fine. Jeez."

The Pigeon remained silent during the next few minutes, then proceeded to coo ocassionally over the next hour. The Author was annoyed by this at first, but found the cooing to be a helpful sound as the sun went down. With their light gone, The Author had to rely on his hearing to guide himself forward. As time flew by, the pigeon's cooing started to sound more and more worried.

"Are you absoulutely sure we're not lost?" The Author asked.

"I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere." The Pigeon said. "But don't worry, now that it's dark, it's safe for me to fly up without other city pigeons seeing me. It'll be easier to spot our way from up high. Stay here, I'll be right back."

With those words,  the Pigeon fly up past the trees. The Author didn't like idea of standing alone in a forest after dark, but he had no other choice. He leaned against a tree and waited eagerly for the Pigeon to come back.

A minute passsed. Then another one. There was still no sign of the Pigeon.

"Hey!" The Author cried out. "Is everything all right up there?"

There was no answer. Instead, The Author heard a beastly growl coming from deep within the forest. A few blackbirds flew out of the foilage in a panicked response to the sound, causing the forest to come alive with movement. When the birds were gone and everything was quiet again, The Author listened carefully for any activity from the mystery beast.

"Who goes there?" Asked a voice from the forest.

"Just a traveler." The Author answered, wondering who was the owner of the voice. He was sure it wasn't just another pigeon. The voice sounded like it belonged to something much bigger.

"And where do ye be heading to?" The mysterious voice said.

"To Frosty Mountain."

"Ah, yes! Frosty Mountain,  a great place for skiing. Well stranger, if that truly be ye heading, you're almost on the right path! I could point you in the right path, but only if you agree to help me with something. My sister is coming to town, you see, and she doesn't know her way around too well. If you see her on the road, can you point the way for her?"

"Sure. As long as you tell me where I am, I'llbe glad to help."

"Fantastic! If you want to reach your destination, keep straight until you reach the road. Once there, turn right and follow the road straight and true. It will take ye to the highway you require to reach Frosty Mountain."

"Okay, thanks!"

"Anytime stranger. Don't ye forget about me sister!"

The Author was eager to move on with his new information, but he felt bad about ditching the Pigeon. He looked up and wondered if the bird was still up there, scouting for a way forward.

Don't be such an idiot, The Author thought to himself. He probably ditched you right now. He's probably telling his other pigeon friends about you right now!

The thought of the giant Crocodile finding him in the middle of that dark forest filled with him with so much dread, he became petrified with fear. He didn't move another muscle until he heard the beastly growl from within the forest again. The beast sounded closer and angrier than before. Heavy footsteps followed the growl, prompting The Author to run forward as fast as he possibly could.