It was dark. A storm had been brewing for some time now and had only just taken tangible shape. Rain pours down overhead as lightning crackles across the sky, flashing and zapping arcs of electricity as it does.

He stood in front of a tavern. A hood was pulled over his head, but it hardly did much to protect against the rough down pour. Of all the nights to be caught out in the pouring rain.

He thinks his luck is about to turn, however. The tavern before him looked open, flushed with life and brimming with debauchery. Most likely not the best establishment, but he'll take what he can get. Besides he couldn't afford not to enter, not when his target was so close.

He rushes up to the door of the tavern and slowly pushes it open, making his way inside carefully to not draw any unwanted attention to himself. Though eyes had already been attracted to the young man as soon as he stepped foot in the tavern and they were scanning his body for any bit of value.

Gold, items, himself. He knew these types all too well. It didn't matter how old he was, if his body was spry enough, they'd find a way to make money off it. He should have considered this joinery beforehand.

He never understood why she associated with these kinds of degenerates. He never understood why she did half the things she did. It was just a part of her charm he supposed.

He sits at the counter and taps on the bar for a drink. His clothes were soaked right down to the underwear, yet oddly enough he couldn't feel a thing. The hood he wore doesn't cling to his torso, the pants don't chafe and even his hair doesn't feel wet. As irksome as it should have been, his body was lifeless.

The barkeep comes back around, a large toad with a sour attitude, slamming the drink down on the counter and glides it over to the young, dripping-wet man. He catches the mug as it drifts along the counter top and the old toad steps back in front of him.

The young man reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, sliding onto the counter. It was an illustration, a wanted poster for a bandit with wild hair and a wicked grin. The beast of Wartwood. They had just attacked Newtopia with an army of bandits and took it for everything it had. Only the bandits were a distraction for her to slip into the king's castle. They had taken something important and the king wouldn't rest until he had it and the beast's head on a platter.

The toad's face goes cold, and sweat drip-drops down his forehead and on the poster. His eyes wander off the man, breezing past him to the back of the tavern. Laughter and the scarping of something sharp on metal could be heard.

The hooded man turns on his stoop to see a tall figure with a long hood over there at the far end. They were running the edge of a dagger over a box, the item that had been stolen from the king. It had been incrusted with jewels of three varying colors, one green, one red, and one blue. The hooded bandit was taller than any frog he'd seen. This was definitely the beast.

The bandit raises their hand up and waves at the hooded young man. In a quick flash, every frog, newt, and toad in the tavern rushes him at once. Against any other young frog, they might have stood a chance, but the hooded man wasn't the average young frog.

He leaps into the air, pops his tongue out of his mouth, and uses it to cling to a ceiling beam. He wraps around it and uses the weight of his small body to plunge down onto a group of his alienists with a deafening crash. From there he hurls himself onto a back wall then springs off said wall and back into another crowd of more thugs, low lives, and useless bandits, using his tongue to wipe and swipe at them as he went.

His tongue was more than just an appendage. More so an important tool, if not the most important tool he carries in his arsenal. Coupled with a few tricks he'd learned in his childhood, it was deadlier than any weapon he owned. He rarely ever had to use his sword thanks to that.

After dispatching the last bandit the tall figure applauds him, the sudden clapping coming slow and almost mockingly as they motion him over to the table they sat. He takes the offer with no delay, pulling out a tavern chair from another table and planting a seat beside them.

"Hey." They spoke, their voice emitting some of the sweetest words as they welcomed the young man. Much like the day they first met. "It's been a while Sprig." She unveils her hood. Her wild leaf-riddled hair was a much too welcoming sight to the young man.

"Too long." He pulls his hood down as well, revealing his lightly socked, dirty blond hair. The girl smiles, reaching out a hand and cupping his cheek in her palm.

He leans into it. Her palm was softer than any pillow he had ever laid his head on. She was his everything even as she was now. He wanted to stay in the palm of her hand forever, to serve her every need, to stay together with the girl for as long as he drew breath. He didn't seek her out because of the bounty, he did it because he wanted a reason to visit.

At some point, tears started falling down his face. He hadn't even felt his eyes watering up. If it weren't for her wiping the tears away with the stroke of her thumb, he would never have noticed. The young man could hardly ever function without her, but he never wanted to.

They peer at each other for a while longer, one gazing into the soul of the other. Time has no bearing when the two were together. She begins to lean into him, closing her eyes and giving her lips a soft pucker. The young man braces for what's about to come and in a flash of red, green, and blue she's gone. Replaced by darkness and the sound of birds chirping outside of his window.

His eyes shot open. His body had been twisted up in his bed, blankets scattered about, and a pillow wrapped up in his arms with an overwhelming amount of saliva entirely concentrated in one particular spot. He thinks back to the dream and the kiss he was about to share with the human girl.

"Ah, jeez." He murmurs, releasing the pillow from their non-consensual kissing session, and slowly lifts himself up on the bed. He rubs his eyes and breathes in an early morning yawn. "Not so much of a beast after all." He smirks as he reaches under his pillow.

He grabs the device out from under it and turns it on. Sprig takes a long moment to observe the background image of him and the girl before directing his eyes to the time. His eyes widen when he sees the time. one pm. "Ah jeez." He groans in frustration.

How could he have slept for so long? And why had no one come to wake him? Especially Polly who was always on his case for sleeping in and slacking off as she would put it.

He swings his legs over the edge of his bed and his feet hit the floor quickly. He shuffles over to his jacket and hat and throws them on while keeping his goggles in one hand. The young teen proceeds to exit the room but stops when realizes that he was forgetting something.

He rushes back over to the bed and snatches the pink phone up. Sprig hugs it close to his chest and respires a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe his maid was so scattered. How could the young teen forget the only thing he had left of her.

He pockets the phone and exits the room.

Sprig had a few words for his sister. Yeah, he should have already been up on his own but that doesn't excuse her for not coming for him. He goes over all the things he wants to say to the younger frog on his trek down the long staircase.

He pops his head into the living room first, though he doesn't find much. He checks the kitchen next, his study in the basement and everywhere he could think of in the house with no luck. He's yet to see the slightest sight of the young girl.

Vexation was beginning to loom over the teen's subconscious. Polly irked him to no end. She always did and normally he wouldn't care so much. Today was a different case, however. He was angrier than he should have been, and he's only been getting more irate as the week dragged on.

Sprig thinks if she were there now, she would be able to find Polly with ease and give the girl everything he was feeling.

Sprig walks back to the front of his house. If he couldn't find the little weasel in there then she must have been outside somewhere. When he walks up to a window and looks out to the farm he can see that his speculations were on point.

She'd been out in the field working on Frobo, her stupid pink-coated and heart-engraved robot. He grits his teeth, rushing out of the house and across the farm, fuming unreasonably the whole way. His anger only really stops once he actually reaches the girl.

Her body had been halfway submerged inside the robot's open chassis. She kicks he legs back and forth as the sound of sparks and wires being tugged can be heard. Polly had really gained a talent for tinkering these past four. It's all she ever did was work on her robot and try to build new things. Most of the things she ever made were weapons immediately confiscated by their grandfather although that never deterred the young girl from making even more.

"Polly." He spoke with no answer to grace him in return. "Polly." He calls again a bit louder this time with much the same outcome as before. "Polly." Sprig growls and steps closer to the girl bent over into the robot frog's chest and kicks at her leg.

"Ow!" The kick makes her body jolt and she hits her head against the robot's insides. "Hey!" She came out, holding a hand to the back of her head. "What is wrong with you Sprig?" She pulls off the headphones connected to the CD player left to her four years prior.

"What's wrong with me?" He points an incendiary glare at his younger sister. "What's wrong is you didn't wake me up earlier."

Polly's face scrunches up in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

"It's one Polly. Why didn't you come and wake me?" Sprig whines a bit and pouts out his cheeks.

"Ohh..." Polly chuckles, at him and to herself. "You're serious? You really serious aren't you?"

"I am." He huffs. "You know I have-"

"What Sprig? What do you have to do today?" She gives him a moment to respond, all that ever leaves his mouth, however, is "Umms", "Uhhs", unsure moans, and pondering groans. "I'm not your mom Sprig. It's not my job to come get wake you up because you're too moody to do it on your own." She snaps at him. A look of slight regret washes over her face. She didn't like what she said but she wouldn't apologize for it.

"You- you really..." Sprig stammers at her. He tries his best to think of a good comeback or rebuttal. Sadly nothing comes. "Ugh, whatever!" He storms off, away from her and her robot, and back to the house.

The fuming teen enters the basement, slamming the door shut behind him, and stomps his way over to his desk. He falls into the chair already pulled out, slamming his head down onto the table as he breathes out a shaky sigh into his arms.

How could Polly have said that to him? He didn't have anything prepared for her in return. He just sat there and mumbled like an idiot and that's what maybe hurt the worst. He and his sister went at each other all the time and most days he would win those petty arguments. Now he couldn't even stand on his own two feet without having to think twice.

Sprig wished she was there then. Polly wouldn't be able to stand against anything she'd have to say. Especially if Polly had made him angry, she wouldn't stand for it.

Sprig brings his head out of his arms and turns his sights to the other end of the room. Her bad was still down there, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Sometimes he'd even to the time to sleep in it... some days. Knowing that she used to be there was as close as he could get to being with her again.

He stands up from the desk and trudges over to the bed in the far corner. The young teen takes a seat on the edge and falls back onto it. His eyes touch the ceiling above as his mind starts to drift. He'd like to think she was there now, wrapping an arm around his chest, lightly breathing into his neck.

He liked to think she was always there. That she had never really left all those years ago. He always felt like the girl was just playing a cruel joke on him each day and at the very moment he couldn't take the game anymore, she'd pop out and laugh in his face.

That single thought puts a smile on his face and sets his turmoiled mind at ease. He turns his head on her old bed as his smile fades. He never liked to think she was gone. He so desperately wanted the past four years to be a cruel elaborate joke at his expense.

Sprig ran a hand down his face. He felt tired but there was no way he was going back to sleep Staying coup up in his study was another thing he couldn't do. He needed some fresh air, yeah that's it. The young teen needed to go for a walk.

Sprig left the house behind, taking another long trek from his family's farm and into Wartwood. He found those long walks to be what he needed to clear his mind nowadays. With his grandfather's proposal to his, now official, grandmother just a week ago, his mind had been in a consistent state of unrest.

So on top of leaving his home behind, his grandparents' wedding just before that and her still being absent from his life, he was also starting to wake up later and later and sleep more as the days passed by. He'd say he was overwhelmed but he may be a little past that now.

That's the real reason why he was so angry at Polly. It wasn't her fault. The teen felt that a real adventurer wouldn't spend so much time in his dreams, he would be out there making the dreams come true. Sprig doesn't know the reason for his tiredness lightly but it scares him all the same.

He walks into town, past dirt roads and busy frogs on their way to probably do nothing at all. He knew what his first stop was going to be. Sprig always debated whether or not he should go and those internal discussions always had one outcome every single time.

He stops in the shadow of Wartwood's hero. She towered above him, always watching with her weapon at the ready. She was prepared to strike down Wartwood's enemies and protect her family. She always was.

Admittedly, Sprig liked stopping by, despite how he felt about seeing it. It may have been a constant reminder of what he had lost but with this, the monument to her likeness, he found comfort. It was as if he never lost her, to begin with.

"Hey..." He mutters to the statue of the girl. "It's been a while... too long..." The young teen turns his gaze away from the towering image. With her, he was never so good with his words now. Even though he would talk to the statue often, as often as he could muster, the teen found himself tongue-tied on more than a few occasions. "A lot's been happening lately you know. The trips in a few weeks so..." Sprig trails off. "Oh, and did I tell you Hop Pop's getting married." He laughs. "After all these years, right? I wish you could go to the wedding, but I know you're busy..." He peers up at her stone visage. She was as she's ever been. Unmoving, her sword at the ready and a soft smile engraved on her cold face. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Sprig's eyes stay glued to her. He tried to turn and leave but he couldn't, his body wouldn't let him. The thought of turning his back to her was a frightening one. He was afraid that if he did, she would be gone again, and this time with no goodbye to be had.

"Take a look round lively Newtopia. Buzzing crowds we sweat and we revel." The sound of singing paired with the screeching of an old accordion greets the teen's ears with some malevolence. "Red-cheeked shouts and songs in the flicker of the gaslight..." The singing continued but Sprig could hardly tell where it was coming from. "Eager blighty bursts from the cobblestones. Racing, climbing blooming fertility. Born from secret seeds, that were scattered in the nighttime- oh." The singing stops as a blue frog with an accordion in hand rounds the statue. "Oh hey, Sprig."

"Wally?" Sprig says flashing a confused smile at the dark blue, one-eyed frog. His attire was as ramshackle as ever. Dirty patched-up coat, shoes with holes in them, and a hat he probably found in the trash. It was still hard to believe a man with an aristocratic family, willingly wanted to masquerade as a transient.

"Well, it's a fine day seeing you eea." He offers the teen an ever-so-lovable smirk. "Say were you, umm... talkin ta the statue just then?"

"Wha-..." Sprig giggles at the carefree frog. He was usually so careful when he came around to her. Always made sure no one was in earshot before speaking and kept his voice low just in case. If a frog-like Wally could notice his ramblings to her, he wonders who else had as well. "I-I... W-what are you doing here anyway? Isn't it a bit too early for the drink?

Wally chuckles at the boy. "Well, it's never too early for a good time lad." He said holstering his accordion in the inner pocket of his warn-down coat. "If anythin, it's more fun when the sun's out and about, wouldn't ya say?" He hops over to Sprig and gives his arm a playful punch.

"Yeah, I guess that's kinda true." The young teen vaguely agrees with the frog.

"So what are ya doin' eea? Out and about with Miss Ivy, I take it."

"Nah," Sprig admitted. "I was just umm..." His voice trails off as his eyes glance back up to the monument.

Wally's smile fades when he follows the teen's gaze. "Oh..." He puffs out in realization. He knew all too well what the boy was feeling. "Ey, mate." He steps in front of the boy, garbing him by either cheek and forcing his eyes away from the stone statue. "Look at me." Sprig nods as Wally steps back. "Come along." He said, turning away from the young teen.

"What?"

He gave the boy a sideways glance. "Like a side before. It's always more fun to start early." Wally begins walking. Sprig was a bit weary but followed the other frog all the same. By this point, he felt he was obligated to.

Their walk-through town isn't a long one, eventually coming to a stop near the edge of the little hamlet.

They were at the tavern. It stood like a potential beacon of hope in a dark place or a deep regret he'd be feeling later on down the line.

"Come on." He taps Sprig's shoulder and enters the tavern before him. The young teen takes one good long look at the bar and considers if he should entire. One quick flash of her in his mind tells him that it was definitely a good idea. It couldn't hurt to have just one drink so early.

He pushes the doors in slowly and makes his way over to Wally at the bar. He takes a seat next to the other, forcing out a heavy breath as he does.

"Ey, barkeep." He brought his fist down on the counter, demanding the bar keepers undivided attention. "Two for me and the lad."

The barkeeper steps over to the two frogs and eyes them up and down. Sprig especially. "Well, if it isn't the walkin' brewery himself." He looks to the young teen. "I ope you'll not cause such a big mess this time aroun." He pokes a finger at the pink frog.

"Uhh, don't worry." He passes a nervous chuckle. "I'll only have one. It's a bit early you know." The barkeeper huffs and rolls his eyes at the boy.

"I'm sure." He steps away, grabbing two mugs from under the bar. He brings them over to a tap and begins to prep the frog's drinks. After no time at all he returns, slamming the two mugs down on the counter with a fed-up huff.

"Bottoms up, ay." Wally hits his shoulder and quickly downs his own drink. Sprig looks at him, shrugs, and follows suit as he downs his drink as swiftly as Wally had.

It was only meant to be one drink. One to loosen his nerves up and to get his mind off of her, that girl he always thought so fondly of. It only partially works, however. She was still a freshly baked bun out of the oven of his warm thoughts. Constantly teasing him with her smell but his tongue would never get to have taste.

One more drink would do the trick.

He was feeling a bit better but not by enough. Her face was still clear in his mind where it had been and always will be. If he had the chance to burn an image into his eyelids it would be of her, no doubt about it.

Maybe two more drinks then.

The young teen was starting to feel something happening to his body now. A buzz zips through his brain as his shoulders begin to untwine.

Her figure was still there but her face had become a bit hazy. He didn't like not being able to see her so well. He thinks trying to drink the image away completely was a really bad idea. Though he was too deep in cheap swamp mead to stop now.

Three sounds about right.

It was getting late. A few customers start to enter the tavern by this time. He and Wally begin to share laughter, and stories of the past and of her. What she had done for them, their families, and their town. Why did she have to leave him?

Four. Four more drinks and he was done for good. Anymore and he'd probably die or end up forgetting her forever. Sprig doesn't know which outcome sounded worst.

It gets even later as even more patrons flood in through the tavern doors. The place was in an uproar due to Wally jumping on a table and insight a frenzy among the tipsy crowd of patrons. Sprig would join him as they enable the destruction of tavern property, much to the dismay of the barkeeper.

Alright, five- wait. How much was he at now? He had lost count and at some point, the boy blacked out, his body carrying its way up to the second floor of the tavern somehow. When he looks down to the ground floor, he can see that the party was still going on without him or Wally in sight.

"Oh, man." He rubs a hand over his eyes. The teen had come back to his senses just enough to realize that he was severely drunk. He needed to get out of the stuffy space before he threw up all over the wooden furniture. Lucky for him there was an exit leading to the outside not too far from where he stood, or tried to stand the best he could.

He wabbles his way over, opens the door, and steps out into the night breeze. Much better he thinks. He could see that he was on a balcony with more tables and chairs surrounding him. Sprig brought his eyes over to the balcony railing as he heard the sound of an accordion softly screeching through the calm night. Wally had been sitting on the safety rail, playing the instrument and humming out an old tune.

The teen walks over and leans on the railing beside him. He watches as the one-eyed frog gently pushes and pulls on his old accordion. The more Sprig listened the better it sounded to him. He wonders how Wally ever got so good on his own.

"You sure can pack 'em away lad." The frog spoke up suddenly still pushing and pulling on his withered instrument.

"Yeah, yeah, I- oh-" Sprig let a quick belch fly. "I guess it's just something I do..." His words slur out of loose lips as his body sways back and forth. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to drink so much. Everything is just so..."

Wally opens up his one eye and glances it over to the boy. "No, it's alright. You shouldn't be drinking at yer age anyhow." He stops moving the accordion, instead letting the instrument rest in his hands for a time. "But now that your lips are loosened, why don't ya tell me what's been buggin' ya?"

Sprig looks over at him. His first thought was to downplay his feelings. He kept the thought of her at the back of his mind like he did whenever anyone asked how he was feeling. That was his intention, though his body had taken the rains for him the moment he downed that first mug of mead.

"I..." He stops for a moment. "I just can't get over that she's really gone, it doesn't feel real most of the time. It can't be real. Every time I think about her... there's this hope that she's just playing some twisted prank on me and that one day she'll turn up to tell me she got me. And I'll be mad at first, but I'll laugh along with her because she was never really gone. She was there the entire time." Sprig brought his watery eyes over to the blue frog. "Even if the joke was never funny to begin with, I'd laugh."

Wally sat a listened to the young teen's anguish. "Well, that's no good," Wally spoke guarding his eye back over to the boy. "That's no way to live at all. I know that you miss her Sprig, I can't even imagine what you're goin' through right now, but I do know that she wouldn't want you liven like this. Constantly worrin on her behalf. She'd want you to get out there, write your own destiny, be who you were meant to be, and all that, I just know it." Wally spoke but his words only just managed to touch the frog. "If only there were some ways to visit her."

Sprigs glazed over eyes snap back into their correct positions once Wally says that. "Right... right what if... Maybe there's a book on it. Research Olivia might have access to." Sprig murmurs to himself.

Wally's one good eye widened when he realized what he had suggested and what the boy had been rambling about in his drunken haze. "I- I didn't mean like that." The blue frog stammers. "You don't want to see her again. I mean you do want to see her... but you don't. You know what I mean. "Sprig shears a confused stare with the one-eyed frog. "I'm sorry, don't listen to me Sprig. Had one too many over "eer." He chuckles, pocketing his accordion and jumping off the balcony railing. "Come on let's head back in." He puts an arm over Sprig's shoulder and guides him back into the tavern.

A few hours and a few more drinks later, the young teen comes stumbling past the door of his home on the family farm. The boy stagers through the dark, giggling and doing his best to keep himself from tripping over as he runs his hands along the walls in a vain attempt to look for the light switch.

He didn't make it far before he eventually went tumbling down onto the floor. He doesn't bother getting up. He was too wasted and too sad to care. Or was he happy? His made was so fuzzy he forgot which word meant what emotion.

"Who's that!?" A voice calls out and a bright light shines above, stinging his eyes and nearly blinding him. "Sprig!?" Hop Pop yells, looming over the boy with angry eyes. "Where have you- What is that smell!?" His grandfather gets closer to the boy lying flat on the ground. "Damn it, boy! Have been drinkin'!?" Hop Pop yells out again. He was being unnecessarily loud for Sprig's liking.

"What?" Sylvia came to him next with a much softer look than his grandpa had been giving. "He smells like a meadery. Hopediah run a bath quick." She hastily taps on the man's shoulders and kneels down by the young teen.

"I swear I can never leave this boy alone for a minute, even now." Hop pop stumps off in a huff. "He is goin to have eyes on him for as long I live, I'm telling ya now."

"Hopediah calm down!" She shouts at the man, then brings her eyes down to the boy. "Don't worry sprig. Everything's going to be alright." She said, running a hand across his cheek before getting up and taking off after his grandfather.

He didn't get what the big fuss was about. He felt great or... was it terrible? Another familiar sight walks up to him. One he didn't have anyone particular feeling for. "Ooooh... Heeeey Poooolly..." He mumbles as the girl comes into view as a fuzzy mass of pink, blue, and blond.

She just stares down at him, a disapproving frown on her blurry face as she shakes her head from either side. "What is wrong with you?"