The rocky cliffs rose ahead, their surfaces dotted with greenery, and Leon's eyes scanned for ironwort—Kael's notes described it as a low-growing plant with purple flowers and leaves that repelled snakes and insects. They'd been walking for an hour when Isabella froze, pointing to a crevice in the rock.
"Look—ironwort!" she whispered.
The plant was exactly as described, its purple blooms bright against the gray stone. But as Leon stepped closer, a small, green frog hopped from the crevice, landing on a rock in front of him. It had three beady black eyes, and its skin glistened with a clear, viscous secretion.
"Three-eyed venomous frog," Leon breathed, stepping back. Eldrin had warned him about these—their secretion was a powerful paralytic, capable of immobilizing a grown man for hours. "Stay back. Its slime can paralyze us if it touches our skin."
Isabella nodded, her eyes wide. "But it's blocking the ironwort. How do we get past it?"
Leon thought for a moment, then remembered the jar of bee larvae he'd packed—leftover from the wasp nest they'd cleared back in Acorn Village, dried and stored as emergency rations. Frogs ate insects, and the larvae would be irresistible to it.
"I have an idea," he said. He pulled out the jar of larvae, crushed a handful into a paste, and spread it on a flat stone near the crevice. Then he gathered flexible vines, weaving them into a simple trap—two loops of vine stretched across the path between the stone and the ironwort, held taut by small stakes.
"Frogs hunt by sight and smell," he explained. "It'll go for the larvae, and when it steps into the vine loops, we'll pull them tight, trapping it."
Isabella helped him anchor the stakes, making sure the vines were hidden by moss. They stepped back, hiding behind a boulder, and waited.
It didn't take long. The three-eyed frog sniffed the air, hopped toward the stone, and began lapping up the larvae paste. When it stepped into the vine loops, Leon and Isabella pulled the ends of the vines, tightening the loops around its legs. The frog croaked, struggling, but the vines held fast—camellia oil had made them stronger and more flexible, preventing the frog's slime from making them slippery.
"Quick—grab the ironwort," Leon said.
Isabella darted forward, carefully plucking the ironwort roots and leaves, while Leon held the trap tight. Once the herb was safely in the basket, Leon took a small clay vial from his pack, dipped a stick into the frog's secretion, and carefully scraped it into the vial.
"Eldrin said this secretion can be mixed with herbs to make a powerful anesthetic," he explained. "It'll be useful for treating wounds—if someone gets hurt in the forest, we can numb the pain before stitching them up."
He loosened the vine trap just enough for the frog to hop away, then capped the vial tightly. The frog vanished into the crevice, and Leon smiled, holding up the vial. "We have the ironwort, and we have a new tool for healing. Kael's notes were right—this place is full of treasures, if you know how to find them."
Isabella nodded, brushing dirt from her hands. "And we're getting better at surviving here. One challenge at a time."
As they walked back to camp, the sun warm on their faces, Leon felt a quiet pride. They'd faced venomous frogs, freezing nights, and thorny weeds—and each time, they'd used their skills, Kael's notes, and a little ingenuity to overcome it. The southern edge was no longer a place of fear—it was a place of growth.