Alayde pushed her tooth around in its socket as she moved through the water, her skin coating like moss. She’d spent the day catching frogs and water snakes and slimy newts that wriggled in between her fingers. She kissed each of their little heads before placing them back in the water. She remembered the eyes of every single one.

She pulled the mason jar from her overall pocket and filled it with water.

Firebugs began to dance through Spanish moss, glimmering in ephemeral constellations across a sky of lichen scabbed trees. That was the sign to come home. Mama always sent the firebugs to tell Alayde when it was finally time for her to come home, but she longed to stay in the marshes. To live in the tall, ancient trees. She caught one of the firebugs and added it to her jar.

The way home was over gnarled roots, and Alayde focused on pushing her tongue against her tooth harder as she headed back to the cottage. The frogs began to sing for her, leading her home.

The cuspid pulled free from her gums as she reached the garden. It was odd, misshapen. She had imagined it would be smooth as stone. It had once been a part of her, but now it was nothing. It was the first time a part of her had died. She checked the little tomatoes, still not quite ripe enough, before burying her offering next to the frog house.

She’d crafted rusted mailboxes into a castle of painted ivy and stone, a home for frogs and fae and other small creatures alike. She closed her eyes and ran her tongue back and forth over the raw space in her mouth as she pressed the mason jar to her chest. Her mouth flooded with the taste of pennies as she made her wish.

Her gums felt fresh and new, tickling as she pressed into their untouched flesh. Should she pull more free? Would one be enough?

Mama said that even though humans were often born alone, frogs and fairies were always born as twins. Sometimes frogs even have thousands of twins. They’re never alone in the world.

Alayde dipped her bare feet into the pond where the swimming tadpole twins kissed the silt away. She scooped a few of them into the jar. She hopped across the pond from stone to stone to the house. There, curled by the front steps, was a brown snake.

Alayde snatched the snake by the head. It thrashed, and she held on, stroking the smooth top of its head. When she looked into its eyes, she saw it— they matched Mama’s satin brown eyes perfect. Prying the snake's jaw open, she carefully coaxed its fangs to puncture the lid of her jar. Shimmering drops of elixir fell into the concoction with a soft plink. She kissed the top of its little head. Firebugs swirled through the air.

Alayde carefully lit the candle, still singeing the tips of her fingers. She poured herself a bowl of cereal. The flickering candlelight showed her blood mixing with the old milk, turning pastel pink, and this was another sign that she was doing the right thing. She ate only the cereal, then poured the contents of her jar into her blessed milk.

She carefully fed Mama every drop of the potion from the bowl, milk slipping down dry skin to wet the sheets. Then she neatly stacked the empty dishes on top of the others in the sink. Mama would be proud. Green velvet grew from them, moss blooming on trees and stones. The beauty of the marsh was coming inside. That meant that the magic would too. It meant her wish would come true.

Alayde crawled into bed with Mama, burrowing into her chest, and closing her eyes tight. She hoped the fairies would accept her gift, that they would grant her wish. That Mama would wake in the morning, and life would be real again.