Chapter 1: Departure (Day 2)

The frog-people behind Bronk and Brack look back and forth at each other in confusion, and back at Ember and Viani, and then back to each other again. They're wary, that much seems evident, but they're also not obviously offended by anyone's actions thus far. Still, none of them steps forward to offer a hand.

Brack replies to Verrian, "We can move you all on the boat, but.. you can not swim to the other side? And your friends can not?"

Brack nods slowly, froggy head tilted slightly as it studies Verrian and the others, lingering perhaps a bit longer on Yelnar. "We can move you all on the boat," says Brack. "We will not go near the Nest of Knives, though, not without a better catch. Great danger. We have lost many friends."

One of the frog-people behind Bronk and Brack starts to step forward. A couple of the others put hands on it as if to hold it back, but it lets out a sharp burping sound, and it comes forward. Roughly, as if unused to speaking the common tongue, it says to Viani, "You touch skin. I touch..." The words don't come immediately, so it waggles two of its fingers at Viani's head. "The color on your head?"

The others, who'd tried to stop their companion, look quickly away as though afraid or embarrassed. Bronk and Brack both noticeably tense up, seeming ready to leap away if necessary.

The brave frog shrinks just a little bit away from Viani's touch, as if not quite sure that this is a good idea after all, but doesn't run away. Its skin is wet, given that it just came up from the lake, and a little cool, but not cold. It looks smooth, but there are fine bumps all along its head.

"I am Greeeemp," it says, drawing out the vowel sound. It reaches out one spindly finger to touch Viani's hair. Its mouth opens slowly, and almost seems to smile carefully. "Veenee? Vaaaaaaah-nee?" it tries, and decides it likes the second one. "Vah-nee! Is right?"

Bronk is the frog-person who answers. "We have not gone that way in many moons," it says. "There are... the places where your people live?"

Brack supplies the word, "Houses."

"Houses," Bronk agrees. "Many houses. But we see none of your people. It is very quiet there, at the place where the moving water meets the still water." It spreads a hand toward the lake. "There once were many fish there.". Bronk’s head drops, and its voice fades.