Chapter Text
I own nothing.
It had been a few days since the ‘lake incident’ as Anne had started to mentally refer to it. And things were finally relatively calm. The most unlikely trio of friends was relaxing in the basement. After much begging from Sprig, Anne had relented to show off her “human treasures” that she kept in her backpack.
“Wow, look at all this stuff,” Sprig picked up various pieces of junk from her backpack, looking at each piece like it was a piece of a lost civilization. “What’s this?” he clicked a pair of nail clippers. “Ah, I get it. Torture device.”
“That’s a toenail clipper actually,” and thank God she still had that on her. Long nails would be torture in this mud-filled world.
“Ah, yes, I see…” Sprig nodded as he observed the device like a professor observing a unique specimen. “... What are toenails?”
“What the-?” The conversation was derailed as Spider-man picked up her pink tennis racket. Oh yeah, she had tennis practice after school. Hopefully, they don’t take her off variety for being stranded in another world.
“How did you fit THIS into a backpack?” Spidey was looking at the sports equipment like it defied all laws of physics.
“Hey, when your school uniform doesn’t give you pockets; you learn the ways of space management,” Next time someone criticizes her for overpacking, she’ll hit ‘em with the ‘you never know when you’ll get trapped in another world’.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of constant clicking. Sprig had found one of her clicker pens and he was currently clicking the pen in and out, in and out, over and over again.
“This is amazing…” Spig droned as he looked at the writing utensil in fascination.
Click click click click click click
“Uh… keep it,” It wasn’t like she didn’t have a dozen others just like it. It was kinda cute how entranced Sprig was with the knick-knack. Wait, was it just her, or did the clicking double?
Click click click click click click.
Spider-man had apparently found another one of her pens. Those weird lenses of his barely even twitched as he kept them on clicking the pen. His head slightly twitch towards her when he noticed her staring. “What?”
Anne rolled her eyes. Pfft. Boys. What was so satisfying about clicking a pen? Wait, why was her hand moving? Where do you think you’re going, traitor? Don’t you dare grab another pen! Must… resist… temptation!
Her hand’s betrayal was interrupted by the scratchy voice of HopPop. “Chow time, kids!” he rang the dinner bell. Oh, thank God. They were all a few seconds away from an endless loop of clicking.
The Plantar’s kitchen and dining room were sort of rolled into one. All the cupboards and stove were lined up against the wall with a big circular table in the middle of the room, Polly already sitting at it in her bucket. The boys and Anne slid into a seat and she rapped her knuckles against the wood in anticipation. Good lord, she was STARVING! She couldn’t even remember the last time she had real food. (That was a lie. Her taste buds still long for the feeling of Delmar’s pickles). But HopPop was currently stirring something inside a pot on the stove. That had to be edible, right? No more scavenging the forests for mushrooms for this gal!
“Okay, kids, here you go,” HopPop carried the pot to the table as he scooped out its contents and poured them into the bowls. Anne’s hopes of real food were dashed with a sickening splorch.
She grimaced at the bowl in front of her. What she guessed was supposed to be the stew’s broth was a murky green like pea soup. Various insectoid limbs were sticking out of it, one looked like a whole dead centipede.
“Wow…” she heard Spider-man poke at his bowl. “This sure is a… unique meal plan,” Unique sure is a kind word for it. Spidey continued to poke at it when one lump twitched sporadically. Holey cow, was something still alive in there? The lum sprouted legs and quickly scurried out of the bowl. “Was that a spider?” their residential superhero blinked. “I don’t think it’s morally responsible for me to eat this.”
“Fair enough,” HopPop downed a spoonful of his stew and didn’t even gag. “There’s probably some spare centipede in the fridge. You can make a sandwich with that.” Yuck, that didn’t sound much better in Anne’s opinion. HopPop eyed Anne’s undisturbed bowl. “What about you, Anne?”
“Uh…” Anne looked at the creepy crawlies infesting the bowl. “No thanks.”
“Oh, I get it,” HopPop rolled his eyes as he stirred his spoon. “My cooking ain’t good enough for the princess.”
“What?” Okay, that was uncalled for! “How come Spidey gets off scot-free?”
“You heard him,” the old frog gestured at the tights wearer. “Just because he’s a freak of nature, I’m not gonna make him commit cannibalism!”
“Uh… thanks?” Spider-man blinked. He was such a suck-up like that.
“You on the other hand,” HopPop elaborated. “Are just being Princess Picky-eater!”
Princess Picky-?! Oh no. Anne is not going down like this! Time for a rebuttal so fierce this old man’ll be put another foot in the grave! “Oh, yeah? Well… If I’m the princess then you… must be the king of… bad cooking!” Who needs creativity? It’s all about confidence!
“OOOOHHH!” Hah! See? Sprig and Polly were in awe of her epic burn! Even Spidey seemed frozen in shock.
HopPop squinted at her. Ooh is that a look of retaliation? “Oh, yeah? Well, YOU… I… uh…” Aha! He choked.
“What’s the matter HopPop?” Anne pounced. “Frog in your throat?”
“Oh, she got you again!” Sprig cheered her on. She wasn’t even sure that expression still worked in this world.
“I- uh- well-” The old frog stuttered before he threw his spoon upon the table in frustration. “I don’t need to put up with this! I’m taking a nap,” he grumbled as he stomped off to his room. “I don’t believe this. I choose to feed and house a couple of strange creatures out of the goodness of my heart and all I get is disrespect!”
HopPop paused as he opened the door to his room, he turned to Anne with a nasty glint in his eye. “If you don’t shape up soon, Anne, you can kiss my ‘bad cooking’ goodbye, when I throw you out!”
The old frog could slam that door as hard as he wanted to, it was clear that Anne had won the day. Anne could see that Spider-man was still reeling from her utter decimation of the elderly fool.
“I had no idea…” Spider-man gripped the sides of his head. “That the bar for insults was so low in this dimension!”
His smarmy remark was Anne flicking a spoon at his head, which he, of course, dodged. The show-off.
“Whatever,” Anne scoffed. “You’re just jealous of my natural sassiness.”
“I dunno Anne,” Spring interrupted. “HopPop looked pretty mad. I’ve gotten pretty good at judging his levels of angry, that was about six- five and a half, maybe. You should tone it down.”
“Oh, please, the dude’s nothing but a bunch of hot air.” She grabbed her hair into some sideburns. “I’m HopPop! I’m a bad cook and I hate fun!” Her cranky old man impression was as excellent as ever given the giggles of Sprig and Polly.
“Ya’ll need to eat your aphids, not play with them!” She hobbled away with a pretend-aching back. You know what would really complete the illusion? A cane! She snatched one from a bucket and began leaning on it. “You youngins keep your elbows off the table!”
Sprig and Polly were now howling with laughter while Spidey just looked like he uncovered who the murderer was. “No wonder no one laughed at my jokes…” he mumbled. “Your standards of comedy are so messed up.”
“Hey, I don’t wanna hear any sass from you!” She menacingly shook the cane at the wall-crawler. “Or I’ll throw you out!” She slammed the cane against the table. Unfortunately, she put too much force behind it, and with a small crack, the cane split in two. The laughter immediately ceased.
“Oops,” Anne looked at the splintered stub in her hand. “Guess I don’t know my own strength. Right, guys?”
Sprig and Polly just stared at her with wide eyes and considerably large mouths agape. Spidey poked one of Sprig’s eyes. “They’re not dead, are they?”
“C’mon guys, chill.” Anne could not see what was going on. They were acting like she murdered their Grandma. “It’s just a cane.”
“It’s not just any cane,” Sprig finally broke from his stupor. “That was HopPop’s SPECIAL cane!”
Spider-man raised his hand. “Uh… special like I-really-like-how-this-completes-my-outfit? Or special like I-spent-$100-on-this?”
“Try one-of-oldest-heirloom-in-the-family special.” Spring pointed to a series of paintings on the wall. One was of an uncharacteristically cheery HopPop. “Passed down from his father, Hop Poppity Pop,” above it was a painting of an even older-looking version of HopPop. “All the way from his father, Hop-and-Lock-Drop Soppity Pop,” Above that was a painted near-dead-looking frog in a rocking chair. All the paintings had one thing in common- the elderly frogs were looking fondly at a cane. A cane that looked very akin to the one currently split in twain.
Anne dropped the remains of said cane to the ground. This was it. We had a good run, Frog World but Anne will soon meet her demise at the hands of HopPop. Goodbye, short-lived shelter. Goodbye, new froggy pal. Goodbye, costumed weirdo that she has to share a room with.
You know what? No! She is not giving up, now! This wasn't the first time she screwed up like this and it won’t be the last! (Lord knows it won’t be the last…)
“Guys, you gotta help me!” she pleaded her case to the witnesses of her crime. “Once, HopPop finds out, he’ll throw me out! And I can NOT go back to living in a cave. The dirt, the worms, the giant spider that wouldn’t leave me alone!”
“Are you talking about me or another giant spider?” Spider-man asked.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I’m not wearing this suit because it’s comfortable,” Spider-man puffed his chest out. “Well, a-actually it is quite comfortable but that’s not the point. The- the point was that this is a hero costume and- Yes, I’ll help you.”
“Don’t worry, Anne,” Sprig chirped up. “We’ll do whatever it takes to help you!”
“I won’t,” Polly swiftly injected.
“Polly!” Sprig gasped.
“What? I hardly know her!” Polly huffed.
This wasn’t good. Anne knew a cover-up like this couldn’t afford any loose ends and this ‘Polly’ looked like a snitch. “Could I bribe you?”
Polly squinted at the stranger living in her house. “What have you got?”
“Uh…” That was a good question. What DID Anne have to bribe this child? What did toddler tadpoles even like? Sweets? If Anne did have any candy bars on her, she’s pretty sure they would’ve been eaten by her by now.
“Oh!” Spider-man popped up. “An old lady gave me a churro before we came here! I think I still have it.”
“Wait,” Anne turned to her roommate. “You had more real food this whole time!”
Spider-man shrugged. “I’ve been trying to cut back on sweets.” Note to self: Kill Spider-man.
“Hold on,” Polly interrupted. “What is this ‘churro’ you speak of?”
“It’s a stick of batter deep fried in cooking oil before being slathered in butter and then dredged through cinnamon and sugar,” Spider-man explained.
“I don’t know what half of those words are,” said Polly. “All I know is that I can’t live without them. Let’s do this!”
Alright! Operation Fix-Cane-Before-Anne-Becomes-Homeless is a go! Looking at the cane right now, it didn’t look so bad. It was only two pieces, maybe they could just glue it back together.
They couldn’t glue it back together. The cane must be anti-stick or something because no matter what sticky substance they slapped on the thing, it would just fall apart.
“Maybe we could try your webs?” Spring pitched to Spider-man.
“They dissolve in an hour. I think we need a more permanent solution.” Spidey shot down.
“Ugh,” Anne tried to cram the two pieces. “Why aren’t there any experts in… wood or something?”
“There are!” Sprig lit up. “We’ll just take it to Leopold Loggle, the wood smith. He loves wood!... Almost a little too much.”
Wood smith was a thing in this world? Whatever, don’t look a gift cat in the mouth or whatever. This guy might be her only hope.
Peter never thought of himself as “addicted to technology.” At least not to the degree of his peers. How could he? It’s not like his family could afford the latest in modern communication technology or even a decent phone plan. The only computers Peter ever owned were the ones fished from the garbage.
All this to say, Peter was more familiar with the non-metal world than most people would give credit yet he’s never heard of an occupation like “wood smith.”
Perhaps they just meant wood carver? But Peter couldn’t imagine how one would help with a broken cane.
Peter was the last to enter the shop built into the side of a tree. The minute he entered, he was blasted by the smell of sawdust and greeted by quite an impressive sight. The walls were lined with dozens of clocks and birdhouses all painstakingly carved. Wooden figurines and images lined the wooden shelves. Also canes. Lots and lots of buckets of canes.
“Hey, Loggle!” Sprig called out to a figure behind a lovely wooden desk.
Peter was following when the head-buzzing suddenly flared up. He froze mid-step and looked down to see his shin inches away from a clay pot. A clay pot that read-
“Termites?” Anne looked over Peter’s shoulders. “Why would a wood smith have termites?” An excellent point. Seems kinda like keeping hunting dogs in a kitten rescue.
“I’m a complicated man!” An elderly voice called out before a blue head popped up above the counter. It didn’t take long for Peter to notice that this character wasn’t another frog, like all the other residents of Wartwood. If those feathery gills on his head were anything to go by, this guy was some sort of axolotl.
The assumed Loggle adjusted some goggles on his head. “Well, if it isn’t the Plantar kids,” He lifted his head to Anne and Peter. “And their new beasts… Well, I’m hardly in a position to pick and choose my customers. What can I do for you?”
Peter… wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But no time! They were on a mission. Speaking of which.
“We could use your help with this Loggle,” Spig placed the two broken bits of the cane upon the desk. “What can you do about this?”
“Oh?” Loggle adjusted his goggles as he inspected the cane. “Interesting…” he murmured. “Very interesting.”
“Well?” Anne asked. “Can you fix it?”
“I can-” Oh, great! “-nnnot.” Oh.
“Can you make a new one?” Sprig suggested.
“Absolutely-” That’s good. “-no way.”
“Do you have one that we could buy?” Polly asked, annoyed.
“I do-” Oh, well that’s- “-oon’t. I don’t.” Shoot.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Anne’s frustration was evident. Pretty understandable.
“Old smithing accident,” Loggle gained a dark look on his face. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Okay…?” Anne looked at Peter. He honestly didn’t know why. He never understood what to do in these situations. “We-”
“Tripped on an anvil,” Loggle turned away. “Landed neck-first on a metal pipe. Pierced my voice box clean through!” He ripped his handkerchief away to reveal- oh, oh God! How’s he still breathing with that massive divet in his neck!
“Switched to wood after that,” Loggle hid his traumatizing little injury. “Anyway, back to your little cane problem. I’d like to help you kids but this cane was made from one of the rarest woods in the world,” He pulled out a fancy-looking book and opened it up in front of the kids. “It only comes the extremely rare, extremely dangerous, DOOM TREE!” It opened up to reveal an illustration of a gnarled tree with bark as black as coal yet peering from the trunk was a terrifying face.
“Few have ever made it to the doom tree,” Loggle stared at the picture with a forlorn look in his eyes. “Even fewer have made it back! They say that it knows secrets that mere mortals dare not comprehend!”
“Dude, it’s a tree,” Anne cut off the ramblings. “Just tell us where to find it.”
“Okay, okay,” Loggle flipped through a couple more pages. “I’ve got a map right here, but it’ll cost ya-”
CLICK
Loggle looked up at Anne who was holding her phone- which had a near-perfect replicant of the map on its screen. “Or you could do that… for free.”
“Come on, guys!” Anne was already moving towards the door. “HopPop could wake up any second.”
“To certain death!” Sprig picked up Polly and quickly charged after Anne.
Peter quickly picked up the pace. It was time to- Whoa. Was that statue by the door when they came in? That’s disturbing. The kind of disturbing you can’t look away from. Like a never-ending train wreck.
“Spider-man?” Sprig came back to check on Peter. “What are you- whoa,” Sprig gazed upon the rather ridiculously buff statue of Leopold Loggle-crafted like a wooden Greek Adonis. “Loggle, we gotta talk about this,” Sprig took Peter’s hand. “We’re coming back. And we are gonna talk about this.”
Peter could barely register Loggle calling out “Beware, kids! That tree’s cursed I tell ya’! CURSED!!!”
The path wasn’t nearly as bad as Loggle made it sound. The hike from Wartwood barely took an hour. The only real obstacle was a lake that the humans had to walk around (the amphibians merely swam through.) They made it to a rather desolate and dreary part of the woods.
Peter was just done ripping a rather prickly bush from the ground when they saw it. A haunting figure pierced the earth like a streak of wooden lightning. A twisted, gnarled piece of black bark that screamed death. The Doom Tree.
“That,” Anne peered up at the monstrosity. “Is an ugly-looking tree.”
“Just another one of nature’s horrible mistakes,” Sprig cheered.
“So uh… What do we do?” Peter inspected the tree. “Do we chop it down or?”
“We just need to break off a branch for the cane,” Anne looked the tree up and down till she pointed to a branch sticking out at the top. “That one’s perfect. Let’s go.”
Anne and Sprig were already climbing the tree while Polly just looked on. “Pfft. You people and your legs,” she was promptly scooped up by Peter and plopped the tadpole on his head before climbing after the others.
Anne and Sprig were busy jostling the branch around, trying to loosen it.
“Need the proportionate strength of a spider?”
“Okay, ‘Mr. Manly Man,’” Anne backed off and gave Peter room. “See if you can break a stick. Careful though, the tree is cuuurssed.” her faux spooky voice echoed through the barren wood.
“Yeah,” Peter snorted. He grasped the branch. He was about to pull when he was overwhelmed by this immense sense of dread. That probably wasn’t good. Maybe he’s just being paranoid? Then again, the last time he ignored this feeling, he was eaten by a snake.
“Uh…” Peter released his fingers from the branch. “Are we sure about this whole ‘curse’ thing?”
“Dude, seriously?” Anne raised a brow.
“Hey, we don’t know what’s possible in frog world-”
“Amphibia.”
“Really?” Peter blinked up at Polly. “Huh. Anyway, we don’t know what the rules are here. Curses could be a thing!”
“Oh, they are,” Sprig interjected. “Though it’s mostly witches and warlocks. I’ve never heard of a tree inflicting curses.”
“See? It’s just a myth,” Anne began pulling on the branch again, seemingly unaware of the ‘witches and warlocks’ comment
“They said the same thing about Thor, and now we're studying him in my physics class,” Peter nearly forgot about the lie he trying to fake. “Uh… my college physics class… I was held back a few times…” Why’d he try the deep voice again? No one bought it!
“Whatever,” Thankfully, Anne didn’t seem to be paying attention. “It’s either this, or I’m kicked out.”
That was a spectacular point. They were talking about the fate of Anne’s lodging here. Come on, Peter, you’re being ridiculous. You are a man of science. You believe in equations and proof, not rumors and legends. Just take the branch! “Yeah,” Peter grasped the branch. “One… two…”
SNAP
SCREEEEEEEEE
Everyone looked at the now broken-off branch (which actually did look like HopPop’s old cane. Yay.)
“Uh… Did the tree just scream?” Anne asked an excellent question. That’s when the tree began shaking.
Peter had an acute equilibrium so he was fine. Those who weren’t fine were all the individuals who didn’t have the natural agility of a spider. Anne lost her balance among the branches first and fell. Sprig followed after her. Even Polly lost her grip upon Peter’s head and went tumbling down.
Peter leaped from the tree and zeroed in on the three falling bodies. Polly in one arm, Spring in the other. Use whatever free space in your arms to scoop up Anne. Flip over mid-air and… stuck the landing! Two points!
“Whoa,” Anne gasped from within Spider-man’s arms- Sprig and Polly were sitting shell-shocked in her lap. She looked up at the still-shaking tree. “Uh… Guys?”
Peter turned to the just in time to see a gnarled pincer split from the wood like the scythe of a reaper. A second one quickly followed the example. The tip of the tree suited as two beady red eyes burst from the bark, shining like twin disco balls of doom. Below them, mandibles split open with a terrifying screech that echoed through the wood. The ground shook as the base burst through the ground, its roots becoming long spindly legs to crawl upon. The Doom Tree had awakened, and it looked ticked off.
“Run!” Sprig yelled as he gripped Peter’s shoulder. Peter took off like a bullet.
“Not a tree! It’s not a tree!” Anne screamed as she held on for dear life. “It’s some kinda grody bug!”
“A bug that wants to kill us!” Sprig yelled.
“Mush, Spider-boy, mush!” Polly frantically slapped her flipper against Peter’s head.
“Knock it off, will ya? I swing better than I run!” Peter really wished he could throw out a web right now. A shadow passed overhead and the Doom Bug landed right in front of Peter with a thunderous crash.
“Okay, that’s it,” Peter dropped Anne and the Platars (There were a few ‘hey!’s of indignation.) He took aim and let his webs fly. The Doom Bug was quickly wrapped up in spider silk. It roared as it tried to break free.
“Nice try, I made that stuff strong enough to hold-”
SLICE SLICE SNAP
The Doom Bug’s razor-sharp claws made short work of the web as it tore through them like a wolverine (Peter wasn’t sure where the analogy came from but it fit.) It looked more annoyed than truly impeded.
“Ah,” Peter blinked. “That’s not good.”
“We can take ‘im,” Sprig hopped by Peter’s side and held out a slingshot. “There’s four of us and only one of it!”
The Doom Bug suddenly began clicking its mandibles in a strange pattern. Its noises echoed through the dead wood. Then, the entire forest started shaking. Bugs started bursting from the trees all over. Dozens of stick bugs of varying qualities of wood gathered around the doom bug to form a small army, preventing anyone from escaping.
“Sprig,” Peter murmeerred. “Do literally everyone a favor and never say anything like that ever again.”
The bugs charged and Peter quickly scooped up Sprig to leap out of the way. The next few seconds were a blurred Hell of stabbing pincers and snapping mandibles. Peter frantically flipped and dodge all threats, whipping his eyes back and forth until his eyes landed on Anne. She was ducking and rolling between the hundreds of legs, Polly in one arm and the replacement cane in the other.
Good, he knew where they were, now he just needed a relatively safe place to get their bearings. Everywhere he looked was some kind of bug body part trying to kill him, but the tingle was starting to make a weird feeling- well, weirder than normal- like it was trying to turn his head a certain way. Peter followed it and saw a small opening between the bugs.
Peter jumped as high as he could, his hand landed on the head of a bug, and quickly used it to catapult himself over to the opening. He thwiped a web out to Anne and Polly. The webline attached itself to Anne’s back and he yanked on it.
Anne let out a yelp but did not drop her cargo as he was brought to Peter’s side. “Is it weird that I’m kind of getting used to that?”
“Can we please talk about plans to NOT DIE!” Polly screamed in Anne’s arms.
“Can’t you do something superheroey?” Sprig looked up at Peter.
“I don’t know!” Peter panicked. “Fighting an army of trees wasn’t covered in the interview!”
“Wait, trees!” Anne’s eyes widened. “Trees are made of wood!”
“Uh, Sprig?” Polly spoke up. “I think my human has a concussion.”
“No, these guys are made out of wood,” Anne ducked under the swipe of a claw. “And what eats wood?”
“Uh, woodpeckers?” Peter sprayed a web in the face of one bug.
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about those guys,” Anne sidestepped a bug trying to trample her. “But I was mostly thinking about termites, like the ones at Loggle’s!”
“Great, we have a plan,” Polly rolled her eyes. “Any idea how we’re supposed to GET the termites?” she pointed to the impenetrable walking forest of death.
Sprig rubbed his chin in thought, but then he came up with a plan. A plan so brilliant it could not possibly fail. He hopped into to arms of Spider-man. “Throw me!”
“What?”
“Throw me over the bugs,” Sprig pointed a the treeline above the wooden army.
Polly gasped. “Sprig! How dare you try to save yourself and leave us for dead! I mean, I would’ve done the same if I had legs to run away on, but you’re better than that!”
“I’ll come back for you guys with the termites,” Sprig explained. “Just throw me, I can take it!”
Peter wasn’t sure what to do. This wasn’t exactly a full-proof plan.
Anne just yanked the replacement cane away from a snapping claw. “Just throw the frog already!”
It was hard to argue with her logic. Peter pulled his arm back and threw Sprig as hard as he could. The frog sailed over the heads of the bugs before landing in a tree just shy of the horizon. “I’m okay!” the frog's voice called out. Not bad for a kid who’s never thrown a football.
“So… what do we do now?” Polly asked.
Peter looked at all the snarling bugs. “Now… we survive,” that line would have sounded so cool if it didn’t feel like they were all going to die.
“LOOOOGGLE!!!” Sprig flailed his arms screaming towards the woodsmith’s cottage. He began slapping his arms against the door like a pair of ferocious wet noodles.
“Eh? What?” Loggle blearily opened the door but was soon thrown out of the way (and into the arms of his buff wooden persona) as Sprig barreled towards the pot of termites.
“Termites, YES!” Sprig held up his Holy Grail full of bugs triumphantly. “No time to lose. I’ve got to-”
“Now, hold on young frog!” Loggle slammed the door shut, blocking off Spig’s escape route. “You kids might have pulled a fast one on me with the map, but I’m still running a business here! Those termites are gonna have to cost ya.”
“What?!” Sprig hopped from one foot to the other, still clinging to the pot like a security blanket. “C’mon, Loggle, this is a matter of life and death!”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Loggle shrugged. “Like when I starve to death when I can’t buy groceries this month. C’mon, kid, pony up,” Loggle held out his open hands with clear expectations of certain moola.
Sprig groaned and switched the pot to one hand while the other dug through his pockets. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t have any money. Heck, he didn’t have anything except-
Sprig pulled out the weird clicking thing that Anne had gifted him. The satisfying clicking noise echoed in his mind. Maybe they could survive without the termites? Like, their claws did nearly slice Sprig’s neck open, but he probably would have lived, right?
With a heavy heart and a sigh on his lips, Sprig plopped the device in Loggles hand. “Will this do?”
“What?” Loggle stared at the odd plastic tube, observing it from every angle. “What is-?”
Sprig quickly picked up the device and gave it a few experimental click clicks before placing it back in Loggles hand.
“Oh,” Loggle started giving it a few click click clicks himself. “Oooooh…”
Click click click click click click click click.
Loggle briefly lifted his head to gaze into Spig’s eyes. “You can go…” he muttered faintly before he kept on clicking.
Spig lightly tip-flippered around the entranced Loggle. The boy calmly opened the door to the woodshop and exited the vicinity. Closing the door just as smoothly, Sprig stood outside the shop in dead silence.
He promptly bolted for the hills, screaming his lungs out.
“My only regret is that I never got to eat that churro,” Polly glanced at Spider-man. “Hint, HINT.”
“Sorry,” Peter shrugged. “It’s back at the house. So no last meals from me.”
The three had somehow managed to find a tree that wasn’t a homicidal insect in disguise, and were currently hiding from an angry mob of said insects upon the tree’s branches.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to have like super strength or something?” Anne had tucked the new cane under her arm for safekeeping. “Can’t you just… punch all their heads off?”
“Okay, first of all, that’s like super morbid,” Peter huffed. “Second… Uh, I’m kinda not that comfortable using my full strength on a living thing?” He helplessly waved his hands around, as if the vague gestures would prove his point. “I’ve gotten used to holding back so I… uh… guess it’s kinda hard to break the habit?”
The two girls merely stared at him until Polly broke the silence. “You’re a pathetic Superhero.”
Peter hung his head. She wasn’t wrong. Peter was seriously off his game lately. Maybe it had to do with how Peter was kinda fighting actual monsters now? Captain America or not, Steve Rogers was still a relatively normal dude that threw normal punches and not buzzsaw claws of death.
Peter’s musings were cut off as they felt their safe haven suddenly shook. Evidently, the hoard of savage insects finally had the thought to look up and spot their rather crude hiding spot. Honestly, it’s a wonder how it lasted this long.
“Uh, guys?” Peter stood as he watched the bugs start cutting at the trunk like a gang of lumberjacks. “I think it’s time to am-scray!”
Polly was already upon Anne’s head so Peter took his fellow human by her waist and dove out of the tree just as it came crashing down.
Spider-man tucked in his legs mid-air and began to spin. He somersaulted right over the bugs before straightening himself out and sticking the landing, Anne still in his arm.
“Ugh…” Anne groaned, but then she noticed a certain weight absent from her head. “Oh no!” she patted her vacant hair. “Polly!”
Spider-man’s lenses widened and spotted the tadpole sitting out in the open, evidently recovering from being launched through the air and into a faceplant.
Stupid Peter! Why on Earth would you count on the tadpole to hold onto Anne’s hair through those acrobatics. Polly doesn’t even have fingers!
“Ugh,” Polly rubbed her head and spit some dirt out of her mouth. She heard an ominous growling noise come from above, and looked up to see the sharp mandibles of the original Doom Bug. “AAAAAGGHH! NO! I wanted to die on my own two feet! Or at least have feet!”
The Doom Bug lunged forward but found itself interrupted by a foreign object flying in out of nowhere.
SMACK
The replacement cane spun through the air like a boomerang, smacking the Doom Bug across the face.
“Polly!” Anne slid in like a baseball player going for home, before scooping up Polly and scrambling back to her feet to hightail it the heck out of there.
The doom bug shook its head to recover from being smacked by what once was one of its appendages, but its woes didn’t end so soon.
“Hey, you overgrown cockroach!” Spider-man sailed through the air and landed a left hook right across the bug's face. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size! Or half of it- or- you know what I mean!”
The Doom Bug glared at its prey and screeched out for help. More bugs swarmed to the side of their leader, ready to tear their enemy limb from limb.
Peter looked around, seeing that the bugs had entrapped him and the girls in a near-perfect circle formation. This was less than ideal.
“GUUUUYYYSSS!” Hope emerged as the trio heard Sprig’s voice cut through the darkness. “I GOT THEM! I GOT THE TERMITES!”
Spider-man gazed through the hoard of bugs to see Sprig hopping from tree to tree, holding the jar labeled “termites” over his head.
“DON’T WORRY, GUYS! I GOT-” Evidently, shouting to your comrades, carrying precious cargo, and high-speed swap parkour are three things that should be kept separate. Sprig had nearly reached them when he tripped on a branch and the jar of termites went flying out of his hands.
Everything slowed down in Peter’s eyes. He turned his gaze skyward as the jar sailed right above, them. Its lid became loose and millions of tiny wood-eating insects began to spill out. It was now or never.
Spider-man jumped in the air just as the Doom Bug lunged at him. He planted his foot right between its beady red eyes and catapulted himself upward. He threw out his hand and shot out his webbing.
The spider’s aim was true and his webline attached to the jar. He shifted his weight. He swung the jar around like a bola and launched it right at the Doom Bug. The jar shattered, and time began to speed up.
The Doom Bug screeched in horror as millions of tiny little bugs swarmed over its body. Its hideous stature was completely obscured by a tornado of termites.
Many of the other bugs began to back away. Fear was evident as they watched their leader be consumed entirely by this miniature-but-many threat.
It lasted barely two seconds before the termites were done with the Doom Bug. They disappeared from the insect’s body, looking for their next meal.
Standing in place of the fearsome Doom Bug, was a pathetic limp noodle of an insect. Its pale green skin glows after being cocooned by a wooden exoskeleton for so long. Atop its absurdly long and skinny neck was an obtusely large head that held the same beady red eyes. It let out a single surprised “Weh?”
“This world is messed up,” Anne face-palmed.
“But also kinda awesome,” Peter chuckled.
After seeing their leader thoroughly decimated and humiliated, all the bugs quickly scattered and ran lest they be next. Even the once proud doom bug scurried away, tripping on a log along the way.
Once all the bugs were out of sight, Peter let out a breath. “Everyone okay?”
“I swallowed a branch,” Sprig coughed out a twig. “But I’m good.”
Peter nodded. “Polly?”
“I’m going to be traumatized for years,” Polly shuddered. “Let’s do this again sometime!”
Peter chuckled. The tadpole was tougher than she looked. “Anne?”
Anne shrugged. “I’m fine, but I did lose the-” Anne gasped and nearly dropped Polly. She whirled around. “The cane!”
The group turned to where Anne had thrown the object. Sticking out of the ground, completely unharmed, was HopPop’s new cane. Looking just like the old one. The group let out a collective sigh of relief. Their adventure was not all for naught.
It was then that the termite tornado came back. It blazed through the scene in the blink of an eye, briefly passing over the cane before heading back into the wilderness. Where the cane once stood was now nothing. Not even a splinter was left.
“No!” Anne collapsed to her knees. “That was our last chance…” she sighed and stared into the mud. “I’m sorry guys, I dragged you all into this for nothing.”
“Hey, we gave it our best shot,” Peter patted Anne’s shoulder. “We’ll figure something else out.” What they’d figure out, Peter had no idea. It was almost sunset and HopPop was probably already awake and hopping mad. Wow. Even in Peter’s subconscious, he knew that was a bad joke.
“This is probably a bad time, but I still get the churro, right?” Polly asked.
This was gonna be a long walk home.
Anne blearily pushed the Plantar’s front door open. Oh God, every muscle was sore. Did they have to fight a giant monster every week? Or… well, SHE’LL have to fight a monster every week. Since she’ll soon be kicked out and on her own.
Anne took a deep breath. There was no running away now. It was time to face the music.
“Boy, that was a good nap!” HopPop’s voice was heard from his room. The elderly frog soon came into the living room, cracking his back. “I sure hope nothing happened while I was asleep that would make me mad again,” HopPop took one look at the dirtied, ragged, and exhausted forms of his grandchildren and house guests and immediately deflated. “Oh no.”
“So what’s the deal with canes?!” Sprig piped up. “Who even uses them these days?” he was silenced by Polly smacking him on the shoulder. “Ow.”
“HopPop,” Anne sighed. Now or never. “I’m really sorry. I was goofing around and I broke your favorite cane,” Anne reached into her bag and pulled out the broken remnants of the original cane, and handed the contraband to HopPop.
“You WHAT?!” HopPop’s eyes bugged out as he gazed upon his cane’s corpse.
“I know, I know,” Anne hung her head low. “I’ll… show myself out.” She already had her backpack, all that was left was the trudge out the door. Maybe her cave was still warm.
“Hold on,” she turned to see Spider-man coming to her side, with his own backpack. “I’m coming with you.”
Anne shook her head. “Spidey, no. It was my mistake, you shouldn’t have to suffer with me.”
Spider-man shrugged. “Yeah, but I want to. I obviously can’t just leave you behind, can I? We humans are in this together.”
Despite her impending doom, Anne let a smile come to her face. The guy was a weirdo, but of all the people to be stranded in frog world with, he was pretty cool.
“We’ll come visit you every day!” Sprig cried as he hugged Anne as hard as he could.
“And just when I was starting to like you two!” Polly wailed and joined in on the group hug.
“Don’t make this harder than this is!” Anne could feel herself getting teary-eyed. She could never handle goodbyes!
“Uh…” HopPop stared at the mourning group. “What is happenin’ right now?
“Uh…” Anne stared at HopPop in confusion. “You’re kicking me out? Like you said you would?”
“You bought that?” wait, what?
HopPop sighed. “Anne, truth be told, I was never going to throw you out. I was just talking tough so you’d show me a little more respect.”
“Whoa, seriously?” It really was all hot air? “That’s kinda messed up, dude.”
“Heh, yeah,” HopPop chuckled. “I probably was a bit too harsh. But to be honest, I think it’s ‘cause… well, you remind me of myself at your age.”
Whoa, was not expecting that.
“Yeah, believe it or not, I was real rough around the edges,” HopPop winked. “I gave enough backtalk to my elders to fill a pond! Guess I forgot how much I could be to handle…” HopPop sighed as he looked out the window to a more simple time before turning his attention back to his house guests. “Now, put those bags down! You two ain’t goin’ anywhere!”
Anne felt an immense weight lifted off her chest. Wow, the old man could be cool. “Thanks, HopPop. So, you’re not mad about the cane?”
“Oh, I’m furious about the cane,” the elder’s friendly smile shifted to a strict frown. “Starting tomorrow, young lady, you’re scrubbing all the pots and pans till they sparkle!”
Anne winced. She really should’ve seen that coming. And honestly, she can’t complain. “Yes, sir!” she saluted.
“Yeah, I volunteered to live in a cave,” Spider-man looked at the pile of mucky dishes in the sink. “But I’m not touching that.”
Anne rolled her eyes. Superheroes. They can punch a giant bug but they can’t handle touching some wet food. Well, that’s okay. She owed him one.