I woke shivering in a swampy marsh I had never seen before. I had no idea how long I had been out, but morning had just risen and I could smell the faintest hint of the salt of the sea, which told me we had traveled a long, long, safe distance from Daniel and the madness of the shack.
I looked over to see Jeremy still asleep, a knife clutched in his hand. I let out a deep breath and stretched out over the edge of the raft.
We had washed up against a soggy shore. I starred at its muddy riverbank until I saw something moving in the thick clay that caught my attention.
Three little frogs, so small and young, they would probably fit on the tip of your finger. I watched them sit together, just at the edge of the lapping water until one sprang away and the other two followed.
