Hopper has trained all season for the annual leap contest. The competition is fierce — tadpoles who grew up with him, older frogs who have won before. He lines up at the lily pad, heart pounding.

The signal goes. He leaps. So does everyone else. Mid-air he sees the finish line — and the unexpected splash that will change who wins. When he surfaces, he has a choice: claim the prize or help the frog who went under.

The pond comes alive when it rains. Hopper loves these nights — the chorus of croaks, the rhythm of the drops. Tonight he is leading the song. He puffs his throat and lets the sound roll out. The others join in, one by one, until the whole marsh is singing.

Then the rain stops. Silence. Hopper holds the last note as long as he can. When he finally stops, a small voice from the reeds says: That was beautiful. He turns. A young frog is watching, wide-eyed. Hopper croaks softly. Want to learn?

A beetle has wandered into the pond territory, confused and afraid. Hopper finds it near the water's edge. The beetle explains it was blown off course by the wind. Hopper could eat it — that's what frogs do. Instead he decides to help.

He guides the beetle through the reeds, past the hungry fish, to the dry land where the beetle's family waits. When the beetle is safe, it clicks its thanks. Hopper nods. Some days, he thinks, you just have to be the one who helps.

The pond is freezing over. Hopper knows it is time to burrow down and sleep until spring. He finds a spot in the mud, closes his eyes, and lets the cold wrap around him. In his dreams he is leaping again, singing again, under a warm sun.

When he wakes, the ice is melting. He pushes his way up into the light. The first thing he sees is another frog — a friend — waving from a nearby rock. Hopper croaks. They croak back. Spring has arrived. The pond is ready for another year.

The young frogs gather at the flat rock by the water. Hopper is the storyteller tonight. He tells them about the old days — the big storm, the journey to the new pond, the friends who did not make it. The young ones listen, eyes wide.

When he is done, the smallest frog asks: Were you scared? Hopper thinks. Yes, he says. But we had each other. That's how we made it. The young frogs nod. Later, one of them will tell the same story. And so it goes.