The Frog at the Top of Frosty Mountain

The Acid River

The window The Author/Allan had fallen through was located on the second floor. What saved him from the fall was the amount of branches in his way. He had to shield his face with his arms to not cut his face, and by the time he hit the ground, he had multiple cuts and brusies. But that didn't slow him down. Fearing being found by the witch and the demon, Allan ran towards the light of the sun, like Mr. Bullfrog had instructed him.

Allan ran for what felt like hours, until he finally reached a river. There were no more trees on the other side of the river, and in the distance, he finally saw Frosty Mountain. The mountain's great peak was covered in snow, just the way he remembered it. There was still quite a distance to cover, but just seeing it made him very happy. The only thing left to do now was to cross the river.

The river was too wide and the current was too strong for Allan to simply swim across. He began to walk along the shore, looking for a point to cross. As he walked, he noticed the current getting calmer to the point in which it was safe to swim in. He bent down next to the water and touched it to feel the temperature, and was surprised when his fingers felt like they were burning.

Allan drew his hand from the river immediately. The smell of burnt skin reminded him of the elderly Asian man that had been consumed by Bruce Fisher Sr's acid flood.

That must be it, Allan thought. The Acid must have found it's way to the river.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw multiple dead fish floating on the surface. He could see their flesh melting away, leaving only their skeletons behind.

"Hey! You over there!" Cried a voice from further up the river.

Allan turned to look further down the river and saw a large mass made of various broken tree trunks floating together. It was a beaver dam, and he saw a group of beavers standing on the shore, sadly watching their home be consumed by the acid.

"I'm so sorry about your home." Allan said as he approached the the beavers.

"My dad is still on there!" Said one of the beavers, the same one who had called out earlier.

Allan felt horrible about the situation. He knew that the acid in the river was partially his fault, and that if he hadn't pissed off Bruce Fisher, the beavers and the fish in the river would still be okay.

"I'll help him." Allan said. "I just need something to float on."

"Nothing can float on that river without melting!" The young beaver cried. "That acid melts anything it touches!"

"It can't melt plastic."

Allan returned to the forest and found a spot with lots of trash. Beer bottles, candy wrappers, old furniture and just about anything else he could imagine. There were many plastic items like cups and old toys, but they weren't big enough to fit in. He was about to give up searching when he found exactly what he was looking for: an old tube TV from the mid 2000s. It was a big TV, with an outer plastic layer just large enough for him to tuck himself into. He split the TV in half, keeping the back half of it to use as a little boat, and a chunk of the face plate to use as a paddle.

When Allan returned to the river bank, the beavers were amazed by his igenuity. They watched him set the makeshift TV boat into the water and climb in, and as he did, they made chucking sounds with their teeth as a manner of demonstrating their thanks.

"Be careful!" The young beaver said.

"I will."

Allan paddled his way to the dam, being careful not to splash any water on him. When he reached it, he saw just how quickly the wood was rotting away. The dam had another minute or two, max. He carefully climbed on top of the wooden structure and pulled his TV boat up with him.

"Beaver! Where are you?" Allan called out.

"Under here!" A weak voice answered.

Allan pushed aside a few branches and found an elderly beaver trapped underneath. The Beaver's foot was broken, rendering him unable to stand. Allan picked him up gently and set him on his shoulder.

"Bless your heart." The elderly beaver said.

"Hold on." Allan said as he climbed back into the TV boat.

Suddenly, Allan heard a crack of thunder coming from opposite side of the river. He felt something warm drip down his shoulder, followed by the elderly beaver falling. The beaver landed on the rotting dam, clutching a spot of blood on his fur.

"Hunters!" The elderly beaver said weakly.

Allan turned to the side of the river where he had heard the thunder and saw them: a group of five men with rifles, all smiling at him.

"You shouldn't have come to this part of the river, boy!" One of the hunters said. "This is our territory!"

They fired at Allan's direction and hit the dam. The already weak wood split with the bullets, causing the elderly beaver to fall into the water. Almost immediately, the beaver's fur and skin began to melt away.

"NOOOOO!" Allan cried.

"Run away!" The elderly beaver cried out. "Run away..."

The dam sunk into the river, letting off acid fumes as it did. The dam had been the only thing keeping this part of the river calm, and now with it gone, the current became strong again. Allan couldn't do anything as he was pushed further down river, away from the beavers and the hunters. He watched the beavers flee into the forest as the hunters shot at them.

Ahead of him, Allan could hear the river growing more violent. He looked ahead and saw the reason why: he was being carried towards a group of sharp rocks.