Toad Heaven by Morris Gleitzman

it wasn't going to take off and squash them.
    What he saw stopped him mid-hop.
    It wasn't a plane.
    It was a huge torrent of water plummeting down a sheer hillside. The humans were leaning over a fence, taking photos of it. The roar was from the water smashing into the rocks below.
    “Stack me!” squeaked Goliath.
    “A giant waterfall,” gasped Charm.
    But it wasn't the fresh, cool water that made Limpy's glands tremble and his warts tingle. Even though his parched nose could smell that there wasn't enough salt in it to flavor a single chip.
    It was what lay beyond. A green and fragrant landscape that seemed to go on forever. Mighty trees and lush undergrowth and shady swamps buzzing with happy swamp life.
    Limpy knew what it was.
    He'd never been more sure.
    It was toad heaven.

T he national park was everything Limpy had dreamed of.
    Big.
    Beautiful.
    Safe.
    Very swampy.
    Once the three of them were far enough away from the bus, Limpy really started to enjoy it.
    “Look,” he said, hopping between massive tree trunks. “It's shady here all day. Dad's always worried he'll get headaches from the sun if he leaves our swamp. He won't here.”
    “And Mum's skin won't dry out,” said Charm, gazing around happily. “She's always saying that away from the swamp she'd need huge supplies of caterpillar-intestine skin moisturizer. Not here.”
    “And the food here's really yummy,” said Goliath, slurping a fat slug.
    Limpy stopped at the edge of a huge swamp and breathed in the warm moist fragrant air through every pore in his body.
    He looked at Charm and Goliath's happy faces.
    This is perfect, he thought.
    Then he remembered the virus germs that were wriggling around inside him and breathing in the healthy air and getting bigger and stronger by the moment.
    Maybe the same with Charm.
    Maybe the same with Goliath.
    Limpy didn't want to think about that.
    “This'll be a great spot for our new place,” he said, pointing up at the canopy of leaves over their heads. “Mum's always wanted higher ceilings.”
    “And she loves this shade of green,” said Charm.
    “The food here really is great,” said Goliath, gobbling a big grasshopper.
    Limpy gazed out across the still water. On the opposite bank of the swamp, under a tangle of creepers that looked perfect for climbing up and swinging off, was something that sent a shiver of excitement down Limpy's spine.
    “Look at that mud slide,” he said. “It's almost asgood as the one at home. This really is heaven. Not only is it a place where all living things are safe and protected, but it's got an almost perfect mud slide.”
    “Wow,” said Charm. “That's the second best mud slide I've ever seen.”
    “And this,” said Goliath, chomping a huge butterfly, “is the best food I've ever tasted.”
    Afterward, Limpy was never sure why this particular chomp, out of all of Goliath's chomps and gobbles and slurps, was the one that gave him the horrible thought.
    But it did.
    Limpy stared at Goliath's jaws and felt cold dread seep through his glands and warts.
    Charm must have seen the expression on his face, because she grabbed his arm.
    “Limpy,” she said. “What's the matter?”
    Limpy could hardly get it out, but he knew he had to.
    “If this national park is a place where all living things are safe and protected, that must mean slugs and grasshoppers and butterflies are safe and protected too. And ants.”
    He pointed to the ant on the tip of Goliath's tongue.
    “Yeah, that's reasonable,” said Goliath, swallowing.“What's your point?”
    Limpy felt Charm's grip tighten on his arm, and he knew she'd got his point.
    His awful, terrible, tragic point.
    “My point,” said Limpy quietly, “is that if all living things here are protected, what are we going to eat?”
    The blood drained from Goliath's warts.
    He stared at Limpy, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of an answer.
    “That's dopey,” he said after a bit. “Food can't be