Ankyra Sound he plays that choctaw bingo

if the cajun could have read her thoughts, he wouldn't have corrected her. she wasn't far from the truth, is why. though he had been born and raised in the rougarou of the swamp, buckshot considered every inch of the bayou to be his home. it wouldn't matter which part he found himself in; he knew that he belonged to the mucky waters and the sound of frogs humming in the late evening. even if he wasn't there in the rougarou, he knew that the swamp was his home. 

the young girl asked where the bayou was, and it caused buck to scrunch his face up in a display of his thoughtfulness. "well, ah would say i's fah from hea," he told her with a confident nod. the cajun didn't think that he could have pointed her in the right direction, based on where they stood. he didn't even know if he could have found his way back on his own. "you evah chase frogs?" the burly cur then asked her.