Page 101 of The Frog Prince

“I can’t be sure, but not too far.”

“It has to be Henne. We should hurry!” Otto said, but Alwin grabbed his wrist.

“Run to the ruins,” he said. “Do what you must to save people.”

“Alwin…” Otto started, that stubborn tilt to his jaw setting in, but Alwin shook his head.

“If we both go, we’ll lead them back to our home. I can’t have them there, Otto,” Alwin said. “I can’t have them desecrating the one place I have left. Not when my frogs are there. Not when you are there.”

“What are you going to do?” Otto asked.

“I will lead them away from the ruins. I will cover your tracks and steer them in the wrong direction.”

“Alwin, please.” Otto shook his head, reaching for him.

Alwin allowed himself to be held, to be comforted and protected in Otto’s embrace for just a moment. He filled his lungs with Otto’s scent and kissed the skin of his exposed collarbone to carry the taste of him with him.

“I will be safe,” Alwin said, tearing himself away. “I know this place better than them. And if it comes down to it, I can ask for a bargain.”

“Promise me,” Otto said as voices drew closer, now almost discernible when before they had been just whispers the wind carried toward them. “Promise you will come back to me.”

“Always,” Alwin said before pushing Otto away. “Now go. Run and don’t look back.”

Otto looked like he wanted to say something else, but Alwin gave him another little nudge, and with that, Otto turned and ran toward the ruins.

“Make sure he doesn’t stray,” he told his frogs, who rushed after Otto.

“I see something,” Alwin heard a voice say, and he stood still, frozen in place, biding his time.

They needed a glimpse, just a taste of him before they took the bait. He had to wait in the open. Just a little longer.

“There!” a grizzled man said to his five companions, pointing to Alwin through the thick branches.

Alwin grinned, terrifying and inhuman, reveling in the minute pause it gave the men before he took off, running along familiar paths, away from his home, away from Otto, away from everything he loved.

He heard their footsteps following him.

He heard them yelling at each other, planning how to surround him, how to capture him, how to find “that healer he shacked up with.”

Alwin could take a lot, but nobody threatened Otto in front of him. He took a sharp turn to the left, a large rock hitting his shoulder from behind making him stumble, but he didn’t fall.

He ran toward safety, toward a barrier between him and the evil that chased him.

Rocks and arrows flew after him, some nicking his skin, some hitting harder than he liked.

“We ain’t supposed to kill the slimy green bastard. He wants him alive, you idiot!”

Alwin ran, lungs burning, his frogs spurring him on, tripping the men, putting themselves in danger for Alwin despite him screaming at them to stop. To run.

He came upon the fallen tree he had been looking for just as his legs felt like they would collapse from under him, leaping onto it and looking over the other side at the chasm opening below him, ending in a deep pool of nearly black water.

It connected to the river and led to his home. To his glen. To his pond.

He waited for them to catch up, to see him.

They skidded to a halt at the edge of the drop-off, rocks kicking up under their feet and dropping below. They shifted, looking at each other to see who was brave enough to step up onto the makeshift bridge.

“Come down, Prince. He only wants to talk to you,” one called, notching another arrow.