Frogspawn Swamp anung un rama

Is this what he had reduced himself to? Trolling a bog without reason and journeying away from a home he helped to build, to be joined by a fellow bachelor. Raimo had not considered where he might go after Moonglow; to be offered a home among a band of men who survived off of frogs and swamp water did not sit well with him; it was not right for his story, no matter how desperate he might feel.

Kukutux had said he would think of the mountain often. Try as he might to avoid it, she was right. Sort-of like telling someone not to think of a neon zebra on roller skates — it would immediately become unavoidable.

You offer a home to someone you just met? Raimo questions, his tone more lackluster, as he made this observation. The way the stranger spoke of these Saints painted them as beastly creatures, if anything. Willing to cull anything that crossed their path. It would be wise to keep clear of them in the future, Raimo considers — or to befriend them somehow, as that might reward him with connections and strength.

It was not strength that he lacked, but love. Connections did not matter much in quanity but quality to Raimo, chief among them was his eternal attachment to Kukutux. Could he swallow his pride and return to that woman's village? Perhaps he would be better off joining the rabble of men, he thinks; but he does not have an answer one way or the other.