“Using your stave, you should be able to wield magic

without closing your eyes.”

Once again, Mousey and Sopher met in the young mouse’s dreams. Mousey still wasn’t sure if their surroundings came from his own mind, if they were something Sopher constructed, or if they were some sort of mix of the two.

Sopher’s spirit floated in the air before him. Her shape resembled that of a mouse, wearing a dress made from the pages of a book. Where fur should have been, there instead was a glowing gold, and her eyes were two blue splotches of ink. Though there was no breeze, the pages of her dress fluttered.

Just like the folds of Sopher’s gown, the ground beneath Mousey’s paws was made up of the pages of a book, folded open. Between Mousey and Sopher was the divot where the pages bound to the spine. In the air all around them swirled letters, symbols, diagrams, and pictures. They flew by so quickly and in such a great multitude that Mousey hadn’t the time to recognize any of them.

“Are you ready?” Sopher asked, her paws folded in front of her lap.

Mousey nodded to Sopher and held his staff out in front of him, ready to practice. He spread his stance on the pages and prepared himself for whatever Sopher was about to send his way.

“Look just past the end of your stave,” said Sopher, “And when you see something dangerous coming your way, imagine a wall between you and whatever it is.”

Mousey narrowed his eyes, focusing on a point just past the Y at the top of the rod. “I can do this.”

“Here it comes,” said Sopher. In the air, off the edge of the book upon which Mousey and Sopher stood, formed the shape of a rhinoceros beetle. Mousey shuddered at the sight of it.

The beetle faced Mousey and rushed toward him, its horn ready to attack.

Mousey aimed his stave at the approaching bug and tried to recall the walls of his farmhouse.

Before his very eyes, a wooden wall sprung up in the beetle’s path. There was a loud crack as the creature collided with the barrier, and Mousey breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s gone now.” Sopher gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Mousey lowered his stave, and the wall disappeared. She was right, the beetle was gone. He smiled up at Sopher. “Thank

you.”

“Just remember that trick when you’re in danger,” said Sopher. “Keep barriers between yourself and your enemies. Walls aren’t the only sorts of barriers you can call upon, either. Waterfalls -of which you’ve conjured plenty- a strong gust of wind, a door, a shield, anything that creates a barrier between yourself and those who wish to do you harm.”

Mousey reached out one paw and held hers. “You know something, Sopher, you make me feel… umm… less afraid. There’s so much in this world to worry about, but what you’ve taught me… it makes me feel like I’m not just at the mercy of others anymore.”

Red replaced some of the gold on Sopher’s face. “Well, that’s because you’re not, Mousey. You have power now, real power, and that will help you look after those you love.”

“Those I love…” Mousey thought about all the ones he cared for deeply. His mother, his siblings, Sir Ranae, and now Sopher. He cherished each of them. But there was something special about the way Sopher made him feel. Something different.

Sopher simply stared at him, with that face he found so impossible to decipher. Ironic that the spirit of a book should be so unreadable.

A strong hand on Mousey’s shoulder made the dream fade, and Mousey looked up at Sir Ranae’s face.

Sir Ranae held a finger to his lips.

“What is—”

The frog covered Mousey’s mouth with one hand and shook his own head vigorously. He then pointed off to Mousey’s right.

Mousey turned his eyes and beheld the source of Sir Ranae’s worry. In the distance, he could see five leathery toads, each clad

in bronze armor and carrying spears. The tall grass around Mousey and Sir Ranae’s campsite concealed them, for now, especially in the low light of the dawn. Unfortunately, the toads had clearly spotted the shelter, and headed their way.

Sir Ranae gestured for Mousey to follow him and crawled away through the tall grass.

Mousey could hear the toads drawing close, and his fur stood on end. He imagined the grass slightly taller and hoped that he’d successfully made it grow just enough to keep them hidden.

“Hey, you!” one of the toads croaked.

For a moment, Mousey wished he knew some curse words.

“Aye, you!” the toad shouted. “Stand up, vermin!”

Mousey jumped up and stood at attention. “Y-yes, s-sir!”

“And your green companion,” croaked the toad. “Stand!”

Sir Ranae rose to his feet and held up both of his hands.

The five toads walked around to circle them, each pointing a spear at Sir Ranae and Mousey. They each stood a few strides away, but Mousey was sure with a good leap they could close that distance. “Frogs aren’t allowed in the Trembling Bog.”

“Are we in the Trembling Bog?” Sir Ranae said in a confused tone. “I hadn’t seen any of the typical signs of a bog. Mud, vines hanging off of trees, mosquitoes…”

“You’re on the border,” croaked the toad, his nostrils flaring. “And everyone knows frogs aren’t welcome.”

“Terribly sorry,” said Sir Ranae. “It won’t happen again.”

“Boss,” croaked another one of the toads. “They were crawling away, methinks these two is spies.”

“Come now, spies?” Sir Ranae said with a chortle. “I understand why you might think that of me, but my companion here? Who sends a mouse pup as a spy?”

Mousey simply nodded and pointed to Sir Ranae.

“We’ll decide what you are or are not,” said the leader. He gestured to one of the others, and the toad approached Sir Ranae with a pair of manacles from his belt. “You’re under arrest for trespassing.”

Mousey glanced back at Sir Ranae, hoping for some hint of what to do. The frog knight watched the approaching toad. When he was within arm’s reach, Sir Ranae smacked him in the head, snatched his spear, and tripped his legs out from under him with the

shaft.

“Slay them!” the toad leader shouted.

“Graaagh!” all the toads cried out as they charged.

Mousey stared at the spear-point rushing towards him. His body shook as he realized the impending doom that awaited him.

“Remember your training!” Sopher said in his mind.

Mousey held his stave out in front of him and imagined the wall of his home, just like before.

The wall rose up in front of the approaching toad, and Mousey heard a loud smack. He almost laughed at the sound, until he realized that another toad was coming after him from the other side.

Mousey spun around, aimed his stave, and a metal shield the size of the toad’s face appeared in his way. First, the shield broke the toad’s spear. Then, as Mousey waved his stave, the shield zipped through the air, around in a circle, and smacked the toad in the face.

Sir Ranae picked up his sword from the ground and, with his blade in one hand and a spear in the other, he fought back against two toads. Jabs with his spear kept one at a distance, and the other’s lance he fended off with his sword.

The leader leapt at Mousey, a ferocious croak erupting from his throat.

Mousey whipped the shield around and caught the toad in the chest. The blow knocked the wind out of the leathery amphibian, and he fell on the ground, clutching his ribs.

Sir Ranae finished off the toad to his left, then, unable to remove the spear from the fallen enemy’s armor, took his sword in both hands.

The other toad leapt at Sir Ranae, who, in turn, leapt out of the way.

The two stood face to face and hurdled toward each other again. Whilst in the air, Sir Ranae kicked aside his enemy’s spear-head and ran him through with his sword.

This battle had Mousey so enthralled, that even his great, round ears did not hear the one last toad coming up behind him.

The toad snatched one of Mousey’s paws and attempted to wrestle him into submission. Mousey turned and bit the toad’s wrist,

forcing him to let go, then kicked him away.

The toad stumbled back for a moment, then lunged at Mousey again, with a dagger in his hand.

Mousey aimed his stave, ready to defend himself.

But, at that moment, an image flashed in Mousey’s mind. That of the campfire he and Sir Ranae had built on the first night of this journey.

Fire enshrouded the toad’s face, and he fell back, shrieking in pain.

“Oh, Heavens, no!” Sir Ranae croaked loudly. “Don’t let him suffer! Put it out!”

Sir Ranae picked up handfuls of soil and flung them at the fire burning the toad’s face.

Mousey aimed his stave again, and water splashed over the toad, instantly extinguishing the flames.

As steam rose from the toad’s body, Mousey turned to Sir Ranae and asked, “Is he still alive?”

“Looks like he’s still breathing,” said Sir Ranae.

The toad sniveled and pressed his fingers to his burnt face. “You’re a monster!” he croaked.

“I’m sorry…” said Mousey.

Sir Ranae grunted. “What’s your name, toad?”

“Krote,” the toad whimpered,

“Krote,” repeated Sir Ranae. “Well, Krote, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to report to your king. You’ll tell him about what happened to you today, and that he should beware the mouse wizard. Tell him that he’d better not incur this mouse’s wrath, or he’ll suffer far worse, do you understand?”

“I understand…” croaked the toad.

“Good,” said Sir Ranae. He pulled the toad up to his feet. “Now, get moving, before I change my mind and run you through like the others!”

After the burned toad was gone from view, Sir Ranae turned to Mousey, “A battlefield is full of pain, pup. But soldiers doing their duty don’t deserve to suffer.”

Mousey winced, “I really didn’t mean…”

“I know, and you’re not to blame. If you acted on instinct. You did your duty and protected us both. He patted Mousey on the back and said, “Let us depart, my friend. The less we linger in the Trembling Bog, the fewer toads we’ll encounter.”

The two of them continued their journey, but all Mousey could think about was what he had done. Sir Ranae had told him over and over that he shouldn’t blame himself, that he’d acted on instinct.

Mousey tried to tell himself the same, but he just couldn’t shake the guilt. That poor toad… he was sure this would haunt his sleep for a long time. The toad was right; at least for a moment, Mousey was a monster.

“I can sense your turmoil,” said Sopher in Mousey’s head. In spite of her comforting tone, hearing her speak only caused tears to flow from Mousey’s eyes. “That’s why I didn’t want to teach you how to fight.”

“I’m so sorry, Sopher,” Mousey said aloud, wiping his snout on his sleeve. “I know y-you didn’t t-teach me m-m-magic so I c-c-could use it t-t-to hurt.” His paws shook and his voice wavered.

“Don’t be sorry,” said Sopher. “This is my fault. I should have taught you other things you could use to defend yourself. Other ways to make enemies leave you alone if they’re being unreasonable.”

Mousey nodded and sniffled. He tried hard to swallow the lump in the back of his throat and took three deep breaths. “I never want to burn anyone ever again.”