Mudpuppies

Prologue

The time had come. I climbed carefully up onto a mossy stump and looked out at the mud-filled bog in front of me. An army of tall and crooked old trees circled us, casting over us what looked like the shadows of giants under the light of the half-moon. But when you’re nine, most things seem like giants anyway.

The swift padding of feet was heard from behind me before Toby ran past where I was. He launched himself into the mud recklessly.

“Cowabunga!” he screamed while airborne. He disappeared under the brown murk in front of me, only to pop up seconds later with a smile, “Come on, slow poke!” 

I took in a deep breath and pursed my lips together, my cheeks puffing out at the sides. My eyes were scrunched shut.

This was it.

With one quick jump, my bare feet left the stump and my body fell into the large pool of mud waiting for me below with a splat. I stood up and heard my friends cheering, barely recognizable under the sheaths of mud they were covering themselves in.

I bent down and scooped up a handful of mud, lathering it over my arms like soap. Clumps of sopping wet dirt and rock fell down into to the pool with a soft plopping noise as it escaped my small hands. I got some more and slowly covered my torso, face, and hair. Toby sloshed over to make sure my back was covered while Steph and Benny double checked each other.

The deed was done.

Three pairs of white eyes blinked back at me with grins like chesire cats. We all stood waist-deep in the muck, marinating in our accomplishment. We were no longer children but instead, now creatures of the night.

“We're beasts now, no one can stop us!” Toby yelled enthusiastically.

Benny tilted his head up towards the canopy of tree tops above us and let out a battle cry. Toby smiled widely over at his adopted brother. It was clear in the way they looked except maybe for their shaved heads that they weren’t really related; Benny was Hispanic after all and Toby wasn’t. If you never saw them and only heard them, though, it would be obvious that they were brothers. In fact, I’d never met  a pair of brothers who loved each other more. It helped that they were the same age.

Toby joined Benny in this yelling adventure, all his pent up frustrations pouring out in one long soulful howl. I looked over at Steph tentatively and we followed suit, our tiny lungs filling up with the cold November air, allowing the silence of the forest to be echoed with the cries of wild children.

We slithered our way back onto the embankment like salamanders, gripping roots and grass until we all stood side-by-side, covered in filth from our heads to our toes.

“We need weapons!” I heard Toby yell before disappearing into the brush below the trees at the wood line.

“What kind of weapons?” Benny called after him, clambering over toward his brother.

I turned to Stephanie, who was standing by the stump I’d used to jump into the mud bogs with her arms crossed, shivering. “Are you cold?” I asked her.

She shook her head and offered a lopsided smile.

“Do you want to go home?” I wondered.

“No. I don’t want to go back there right now,” she told me, looking to the side.

Before I could ask why, Toby could be heard charging from the woods. He held a long stick up over his head like a warrior. Benny came barreling through behind him with his own stick.

“Kill the pig!” Toby shouted, “like in Lord of the Fleas!”

“It’s flies,” I corrected him with a giggle.