Chapter 3
How long she stood there, Gemma couldn’t say. Minutes? An hour? Enough for the sun to creep closer to the western horizon. Most of the toads hopped off toward the marsh and the protection—not to mention the insects—it offered.
Plaintive cries roused her. She looked about. The queen and Sebastian had left with their army. But here, in the dry dust of the yard, several toads remained—the injured, and, yes, the dead as well. Some hobbled to her and settled in by her feet, almost like a hound might. Others were too broken to move at all.
Gemma knelt, spread her apron, and gathered the wounded. The task took three trips, but she transported all of them to the marsh and found beds for them among the reeds. Before she curled up beneath the willow tree for the night, Gemma sprinkled R
