Frogs of Vengeance

The sky filled with wings that were not butterflies.

They came out of the marsh like arrows: the flying frog guard, steel drawn, leather armor snapping in the wind. They struck the swarm from above and below, cutting through infected wings in a fury of moonlit bronze.

For the first time that night, the horde broke.

The frogs drove the survivors beyond the gate and landed beside the princess before the last battle cry had faded.

They had won the garden. They had not saved her.