Quilla’s Waiting Game — Every morning, when the marsh smelled of wet mud and cattail fluff, Quilla stood in the shallows and counted ripples around her ankles. Read the full story →
Every morning, when the marsh smelled of wet mud and cattail fluff, Quilla stood in the shallows and counted ripples around her ankles. She wanted to invent a game no one could rush. “First to twitch loses,” she told the frogs, and planted all four feet in the cool water.
The frogs blinked. Then they made the rules harder. One plopped beside her nose. Another blew bubbles that went glub-glub-glub. Because Quilla did not twitch, a dragonfly landed on her ear. Because of that, three minnows mistook her legs for bridge posts and held a tiny race around them. Quilla’s whiskers wobbled, but she waited.
At last a breeze bent the reeds, and a fat cattail dropped its fluff right onto the bossiest frog. He sneezed so hard he hopped backward into a mud bubble. “I win,” Quilla said, very softly. Next time you spot her standing among the ripples, check whether her whiskers are already planning round two.