Chapter 7: The Threat Of Rain

Hawl kept his nose low to the ground as he sniffed rapidly. Taking in the many scents of the forest and rapidly discarding the information he didn't need. He was focused and moving fast.

The goat behind him actually had to pay attention or risk falling behind. That didn't stop her from talking though. “I still don't understand how you know that they've sped up. How can you tell what speed they are going just from the scent?”

Hawl didn't look up as he stayed focused on the trail. Though after a second he started absentmindedly answering her between breaths. “It's simple math. The scent trails age at a steady and consistent rate. It's not distinct enough to know exact times, but I can compare the relative difference. If we move at the same rate as them then the age of the spot we are at on the trail will stay the same. If we are falling behind then our spot grows older, and as we get closer our spot gets fresher. With this in mind I have noticed that the rate we are gaining ground has decreased by a significant enough degree that it can not be explained by environmental factors.”

“Oh wow!” Sierra stared at Hawl with her mouth agape. “You're so smart! It's like you're a turtle or something.”

The wolf rolled his eyes as he continued to run. “It's really not that impressive. It may sound complex when you spell it out in detail like that, but it's actually pretty intuitive. Try describing how walking works in detail and you'll see what I mean.”

Sierra fell silent for a while as she worked through the exercise in her head. Then she said, “I understand what you mean. But even if it is instinctual, it's still extremely impressive! Being a wolf must be so cool.”

Hawl wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn't say that…”

The goat's wide grin slipped a little and her voice grew empathetic. “Why not?”

Hawl looked up stone faced. His features unreadable as he narrowed his eyes at something in the distance. “I was wrong. It looks like they made it here before us.”

Sierra sighed at the deflection, but didn't push the matter. Then she lifted her head a bit to see what Hawl was talking about. She noticed the thickening forest, a change in the types of trees, and the straw roofs of distant buildings. She looked at her companion. Then back at the settlement they were rapidly approaching. “And… Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“This is Bogdoor.” Hawl said with just the slightest hint of soured nostalgia. “It's one of several small trading towns that border the bayou.”

Sierra squinted to get a better look at the small shanty town. A pawful of crude wooden structures were huddled together around muddy paths that wound through the area. Oddly, they looked like they were built atop felled tree logs as a foundation. Probably to raise the buildings off the ground and reduce the risk of flooding. There weren't exactly bustling crowds of animals moving in and out of the town. But a few figures were visible even from this distance. Mostly brown fur? “What kinds of animals live here do you think?” She asked as she tried to make out the shapes on her own.

Hawl lifted his nose up off the ground and sniffed deeply from the wider air. Then he answered the goat's question. “It's mixed by the smell of it. Mostly frogs. But also some turtles, rabbits, and birds. I think I may also detect some trace of pig? But I'm less certain of that one.”

Sierra gawked at Hawl as he went back to following the trail with his nose pressed to the ground as if nothing had happened. He didn't show it. But he did find it amusing the way Sierra looked at him like he was some kind of super detective. It made him want to drag her to a professional tracking competition to show her what truly talented professionals were capable of.

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Something felt off as the wolf and goat stepped into Bogdoor proper. Rotten wood, crude alcohol, and disease were heavy enough in the air that even Sierra would be able to smell it. Several frogs were sitting on the moss covered logs which acted like porches to their homes. They were looking out at the muddy street with deep judgmental frowns. Their throat pouches pulsing rapidly in a silent rhythm. Though the only chirping that could be heard was from a distant building. Not a frog song, but happy avian chirps. Hawl nodded to unresponsive towns folk and kept his nose to the ground. The trail was fresher than ever. Less than a day away now by his estimations. Yet he didn't feel reassured by the closing distance. “Something’s wrong…” Hawl mused quietly under his breath.

The bandits were in a hurry on their way into town. Something prompted them to pick up their pace and travel through the night without sleep. So why…? Why did they spend so much time running around Bogdoor? Their scent trails were criss-crossed throughout the street. Leading from building to building. Sometimes they went inside an establishment. Other times they just lingered at the base of a log for a bit before moving on. Were they trying to throw off the scent in a more crowded area? If that was their plan then they were doing a pretty poor job of it. A puppy could follow their trail at this rate.

Hawl followed the trail and stopped next to a mossy porch. A muggy brown-green frog was rubbing some kind of lotion onto her skin to keep it from drying out in the afternoon weather. He saw her watching him out of the corner of her eye. But she didn't acknowledge his presence until after he addressed her first. “Excuse me miss. I'm currently tracking a pair of very dangerous bandits on behalf of the wolven empire. I would really appreciate any help discovering their whereabouts. Have you seen a pair of rabbits recently? They may or may not have a rat with them as well.”

The frog narrowed her eyes as if suspicious of his statement. “That depends…” She said at last, in a slow croaking voice. “What do these rabbits look like?”

Hawl closed his eyes as he found himself in a very frustrating position. “One is female and the other is male. They are not related, so they may or may not look alike. Aside from that, I cannot say.” If he was talking with wolves then he would have plenty more to add. Wolves had dozens and dozens of words to describe the granular nuances of different smell profiles. But such words were meaningless to an animal whose primary way of observing the world was with sight. Without the complexity of proper scent descriptors. He really could only talk about his prey in terms of their visual appearance. Which was tricky, because size, color, ear shape, tail length, scars, and other such features were some of the main ways to identify an individual. And all of those features were also some of the harder traits to identify with just scent.

The frog just looked unimpressed, as well as skeptical. “You have a predation notice?”

“Correct.” The wolf nodded stiffly.

That note of skepticism grew more pronounced as she pressed him. “You have a predation notice on two rabbits, and yet you don't even know what they look like?”

Hawl was about to explain to her that it wasn't all that uncommon for hunters to have incomplete information of their targets. But to his surprise Sierra answered for him. “The female is named Yu. She's about the size of a big peach, has whitish cream fur, short ears, rounded features, and a short snout. The male is named Her’rin or something like that. He is about five times as big as her, has more of a motley gray brown mix of fur colors, has long thick features, and a more angular snout.”

The frog's throat pouch pulsed as she turned to look at the goat. She gave her an almost disgusted look as she croaked. “And who are you supposed to be, pokeskull?”

Sierra was about to answer with her name. But it was Hawl's turn to intercept the answer. “She is a deputy hunter who is assisting me on this case. Which means she is acting under the authority of the wolven empire. I would ask that you show her some respect.”

Sierra looked up at Hawl with a look of shocked admiration. She was not expecting him to stand up for her like that.

It was a bit embarrassing. Especially because Hawl didn't really care all that much about defending her ego. He just wanted to shut down any nastiness directed towards his companion early. Because he felt that would save him a lot of time in the long run. Also because he wanted to project an image of authority.

And he must have succeeded in his social calculations, because the next thing the frog did after taking a moment to frown pensively and think was to shrug her shoulders and admit. “Yeah I saw them. They showed up early this morning and started wandering around town. They went door to door offering rods in exchange for favors.”

“They were bribing animals?” Hawl asked with a raised eyebrow. “What kind of favors were they looking for?”

The frog retracted her left eye into her skull so that she could scratch at her face easier. She seemed completely unbothered by the whole situation. “They asked if I would be willing to kick someone's teeth in, in exchange for money. And when I said no they offered me two copper rods to forget I ever saw them.” For the first time since the conversation started, she smiled. “I took their copper by the way. So I guess I shouldn't have told you that… Oops.” The oops was sarcastic.

Hawl's eyes went wide. After giving it a single second of thought he nodded to the frog. “Thank you. Have a nice day.” Then he hurriedly turned to leave.

Sierra seemed taken aback by the sudden shift and lifted one hoof off the ground hesitantly. “Wh- We're leaving? But you didn't even ask if they had Madam Rosary with them.”

The wolf leaned down and whispered urgently to the little goat. “Worry about that later. We need to get out of town. Now.”

Sierra followed him closely and whispered back. “Why? What's wrong?”

Hawl flicked his head towards the blank or scowling faces that watched them from buildings. Perhaps it was harder for her to see since she was not at eye level with the tops of the logs. But there were enough animals peering down from windows or a logs edge for her to see what he did. “Look around. We are attracting waaay more attention then we should, and I think I know why. Our quarry must have tried to pay off half the town to interfere with our hunt. And not everyone will be as willing to turn down whatever offer they were promised.”

Sierra's eyes went wide and she looked at the frowning frogs with new found anxiety. “You think they all were… You think they paid the townsfolk to fight us?”

Hawl walked quickly with his jaw tensed. “I'm pretty sure they wanted far more than just that. You're not a wolf so you might be fine if you don't get involved. Unless they knew about you before leaving?” He risked a sidelong glance at her. “Actually… How did you know their names and descriptions? Do you have a history with this gang I should know about?”

Sierra shook her head as she kept pace. “Nothing that dramatic. I was just watching them from the thicket when Madam Rosary got captured. And I saw the two of them walk away with her.” She explained as she warily looked from face to face. There was definitely something tense in the air, and her instincts were telling her she needed to run. But Hawl was firmly setting the pace at a brisk walk instead. She swallowed a lump in her throat, then tried to smile. “Well, so far they’ve just been staring at us. Even if they were offered money to fight. Maybe all of them also decided not to go through with it?”

The big gray canine made a short sharp exhaling sound. He seemed more annoyed than afraid as he explained. “Or they are trying to decide if anyone else will back them up. They know that none of them could stand a chance against an animal of my size if they are alone. But all it takes is one idiot to overestimate their chances, and then we're screwed. Because obviously it is much easier to join a fight than it is to start one.”

“Okay, I see your point.” Sierra glanced back the way they came as she asked. “But if we could be attacked at any moment, then why are we moving deeper into town? Weren't you the one who said we needed to leave?”

Hawl kept his nose to the ground, but tilted his head in a way to imitate a nod. “Yes I was, and we do. But for now I've got to keep following the scent. Otherwise I'll risk losing it. So stay alert. Our prey are up to something. I can practically feel it in my whiskers.”

The muddy streets weren't empty. Frogs and the odd rabbit or two drifted to the side to avoid getting in the way of the wolf. In many cases they practically pressed themselves against the base of the city logs in an attempt to disappear. Passing turtles didn't bother changing their movement when they saw him. They were slow, and also bigger than the tiny frogs by far. So they just went on their way with confidence, knowing that they could hide in their shells if something went wrong. Hawl ignored them all. Moving quickly, but not so quickly as to appear anxious. He had his head raised up to be more aware of his surroundings. Which meant he couldn't keep his nose to the ground, limiting his ability to track. But that was fine because he was pretty certain he knew where they were headed already, and he needed to be focused on the situation.

“If something happens, I need you to back away from me and blend in with the crowd as best you can.” Hawl hissed quietly to the worried goat following him. “Try not to let anyone know that you are with me, or else it might get you in trouble by association. Understand?”

Sierra looked worried as she reluctantly nodded. “Okay. If you're sure.” She whispered before allowing herself to lag behind a few paces.

Hawl kept walking straight ahead. He could see their destination. The scent trails of the bandits were moving towards it, the tallest building in the village. The rookery. If they could just get there he'd be able to-

Hawl halted in surprise as a tiny shape lept from a log that came up to his shoulder. It landed in the middle of the muddy street with a plop that made the wolf wince internally. Adjusted for size, a fall like that would easily kill an animal like him. But for whatever reason, smaller creatures could always fall farther without hurting themselves. And frogs were the smallest of all animals in the known world. The frog that landed in the street in front of him was about the size of a bird egg, and seemed completely unphased by the fall. He was a dull brown male. Which meant that he was even smaller, because the males of their species were smaller on average than the females. But despite his small size he still reared up with an idiotic look of scrappy defiance.

For a few seconds there was nothing but dead silence as the two animals just stared at each other with everyone watching. Then the tiny frog puffed out his throat pouch and shouted up four words like a warrior's challenge. “I hope you sneeze!”

If it were any other animal... If it was anything other than a frog then Hawl would have brushed off the comment as harmless. His pride was a hardy thing, and he was difficult to insult or provoke. Especially with his naturally non-reactive demeanor.

…and yet…

Hawl's fur rose up and his mind raced with possibilities. The other frogs of Bogdoor looked on with discerning interest, ready to jump in at a moment's notice. Suddenly he became aware of how many eyes were on him. The gray wolf froze for way too long as he tried to decide a plan of action. Not knowing what else to do. He started very slowly moving to walk past the daring amphibian.

A single frog was almost always harmless. They were so small that Hawl could have easily lapped him up with his tongue and swallowed him whole if he was so inclined. They weren't fast, they weren't strong, and they had fewer natural weapons than even rabbits. Perhaps if Hawl just didn't acknowledge the frog, then maybe he would be able to slip away before the situation escalated. His heart was pounding in his chest as he silently prayed that the tense silence lingered.

“I hope you sneeze!” The frog repeated with a furious squeak. “I hope you sneeze and sneeze until you can't feel your nose!”

Hawl felt a shiver run down his spine. They were just empty words. But right now they were very dangerous indeed. The watching audience shifted uncomfortably as the huge wolf pivoted around to glare back at the frog. “What did you say to me?” He was offering the frog an opportunity to say anything else other than-

“I said, I hope you sneeze!”

Hawl took two long strides towards the frog and bared his teeth in a snarl. “Take that back.”

The frog's eyes were wide and he was starting to shake. Hawl had poured every ounce of intimidation he could into his words. Obviously he couldn't actually follow through on any threats he made or implied. But he was hoping that raw prey instincts would be enough to get the frog to shut up. The frog was hyperventilating as he stared into a toothy maw that could easily fit him many times over. Hawl was trying to make an example out of him. But the damn brave little creature somehow managed to hold his ground. Through tears and sobs the frog called the wolf's bluff. “I s-said, I h-ho-hope y-you sn-sneeze!”

Before Hawl could decide on how he would respond to that, a second voice croaked from one of the nearby buildings. “I hope you trip and fall!”

The wolf snapped around so fast that he nearly tore the gash on his neck open again. His eyes flicked from frog to frog as he bared his teeth in a warning snarl. “Who said that?!” For an answer, too entirely separate voices called out, “I hope you get tangled up in a bur bush!” and “I hope your next meal tastes bad.”.

Hawl was rapidly losing control of the situation. And the frogs were growing more bold with each passing second. More voices rose up to add their own contribution. “I hope your lips dry out!”, “I hope you throw up.”, “I hope someone steals your money!”, “I hope you accidentally break something you care about.”, “I hope you get really really bored!”.

Hawl spun in a circle trying to flash his teeth at every frog which harbored ill will for him. But despite his best attempts to look scary and intimidating, more frogs continued to jump down into the street to face him.

“I hope you get fleas.”, “I hope you lose your job.”, “I hope those cuts you've got never heal.”, “I hope you get a thorn stuck in your paw.”, “I hope you wake up tired.”, “I hope you get sick with a fever.”, “I hope moths eat all of your clothes.”. Their croaking voices grew louder, bolder, more insistent. Each frog adding their own little jab before breaking out into a rhythmic angry croaking that thrummed in Hawl's ears.

“I hope your eggs all dry up in the sun!”, “I hope no one laughs at your jokes.”, “I hope you get salt on your skin!”, “I hope you miss every fly you try for.”, “I hope you sprain your tongue!”. Not every biting remark made sense for Hawl. But the sentiment was there and that's what really mattered. That's what was dangerous.

Something was happening. It was unnoticeable at first, but as the angry chanting continued the world started to feel… different somehow. An odd tension was mounting, like the moments of calm leading up to a big storm. The air was too hot and stuffy for the outside in spring. Yet the heat was opposed by an ominous cool breeze and the slow dimming of clouds drifting over the sun. Hawl’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do. Frogs were the smallest and most harmless of animals. If it came down to a fight then he would easily be able to win against several times their number. But the problem was… frogs didn't fight like other animals did.

“I hope you feel insecure about your body.”, “I hope you get worms!”, “I hope every time you walk into a room you forget why you went in there.”, “I hope your food goes bad before winter.”, “I hope all your friends secretly hate you.”. Negativity. Negativity and ill will was gathering in the air like an acrid fog. This was how frogs fought. Not with a tooth or claw. But with a poison only they could use. Their idiom did not bestow gifts to the most worthy of their number. Instead, their Tellings were distinct events. Fleeting storms, crafted of shared malevolence.

“I hope all your fur falls out.”, “I hope you can't sleep at night!”, “I hope you get a rash on your crotch.”, “I hope you go deaf at the least convenient time possible!”, “I hope you never have kids!”. They threw their curses into that growing storm. Eager to see if it would be enough to finish the Telling. There was a threshold that had to be crossed, and no one ever knew how far they'd have to push before that dam broke. There was still a chance that they might not be able to finish it. They might not have enough ill will for Hawl to inflict their Telling upon him.

…but if they did…

“I hope you pick up mange.”, “I hope your fur gets wet and never dries!”, “I hope you get a sore throat.”, “I hope you have sex with a fish.”, “I hope you have a bad trip after eating mushrooms.” Not all of their dark wishes would be granted, but many would be. Fate would bend itself in knots to ruin him. He would suffer one disaster after another until every drop of misfortune was spent in service of their idiom.

When it rains, it pours.

Hawl had to stop it. A frog's Telling could easily cripple him for life or even kill him. Even if the most harmless of temporary curses were the ones to manifest, then it would still be ruinous. He had to force the frogs to take back their curses somehow. As long as the Telling was incomplete, a frog could rescind their part of it. Whatever foul wish they made would not come to pass, and the storm would be robbed of power. Reducing the chances of it pushing past the tipping point. Hawl had to get enough of the frogs to withdraw from the chant. Preferably ones who had thrown out the most horrible curses.

“I hope you get addicted to shellbloom berries!”, “I hope you permanently lose control of your bladder.”, “I hope you end up as someone's slave.”, “I hope your lungs fill up with salt water!”. The wolf charged forward, his eyes locked onto a lime green frog with a white underbelly that had threatened him with drowning. She had been smug as she added her voice, since she had felt secure in her position within the crowd. But her expression quickly turned to horror as she saw the wolf take action.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Take it back!” Hawl barked as he lunged. His teeth snapping where the line green frog had been. “You take that back right now!” Instantly, she turned around and hopped away from her pursuer while screaming. Along with all of the frogs sitting next to her. The group of frogs scattered in a fanning motion. He could have continued to chase them. But the blood was ringing in his ears, and he wasn't thinking straight. As the first group fled, he pivoted to those who were still chanting at him. Defensive aggression. He chased the frogs away and made space between him and them. His fur was standing on end to make him look bigger, he was growling like thunder, and his sharp teeth were fully bared for all to see. “Stop it. STOP IT, ALL OF YOU!” He yelled passed snarling fangs.

Hawl's heart was pounding. He could still feel it in the air! The poison. The cold, humid, weight. Only after he heard the rumble of distant thunder did he catch himself and realize his mistake. He wasn't being threatened physically. So the aggressive tactics he had fallen back to were completely meaningless. He had broken up their lines, got some of them to retreat, and forced them to give him space so that he might fight or run. But… What good would that do for him? This was the wrong type of battlefield! He wasn't trained to fight frogs! He didn't know what to do! All his aggression, his tactics, his attempts at intimidation… All it did was rally the frogs against him!

“I hope your house burns down!”, “I hope your teeth fall out!”, “I hope you go blind in one eye.”, “I hope you break out into painful blisters and sores.”, “I hope you get falsely accused of heinous crimes.”, “I hope no one remembers you after you die.”. Between the terrified screams, the frogs who stood their ground only grew more insistent and more vicious with their curses. Hawl's show of teeth only served to vindicate the frogs and motivate them to escalate their animosity for the dangerous animal roaming their streets.

“I hope your tail falls off.”, “I hope you have constant nightmares.”, “I hope you get eaten by a snake.”, “I hope you turn into a worm.”, “I hope you can't stop hiccuping for the rest of your life.” Hawl's vicious front collapsed. His ears pulled back, his tail tucked between his legs, and he pressed his belly into the ground. He was panting out of stress as his eyes darted from spot to spot. Despite himself, he started to whine quietly to himself. “Take it back. Please? Take it back…”

The sky had darkened as storm clouds loomed overhead. The gloomy trees were rustling angrily with the wrath of the cold storm winds that had swept in unnaturally fast. Any second now. Any second now the storm would start. And the frogs seemed to have no intention to stop!

Hawl… closed his eyes. Focused on his breathing. And regained his composure. He swept his emotions aside, as he had done so many times before, and analyzed the situation from a purely logical position. The storm was coming. By the look of things, it seemed inevitable by this point. What options did he have? Killing a frog would effectively remove its curse from the pool, but the ill will that would inspire in the other frogs would surely feed the storm and guarantee that more total curses would be granted. Given what Hawl had heard so far, he wasn't exactly sure if he would even be able to survive the coming storm. It was even more unlikely that he'd survive without being crippled for life. Most certainly, he wouldn't be able to continue the hunt.

Hawl sighed and whispered to himself. “I'm sorry Sierra.” At least she got away and wasn't mixed up in all this. The Grey wolf slumped to the ground and gave up fighting. He lay there in the mud, waiting placidly for the rain. Listening to all of the horrible things that could be waiting for him in the future.

“I hope you break a leg!”, “I hope your lungs get infected and fill with smelly yellow pus.”, “I hope the love of your life leaves you.”, “I hope you never find your Telling.”, “I hope you grow big ugly warts all over your body.”, “I hope the ground always feels like hot coals beneath you.”, “I hope your blood gets replaced with candle wax.”, “I hope your gut fills up with sand and mud.”, “I hope you get kicked to death by a thousand little red spiders.”, “I hope your voice goes so high pitched that everyone hates listening to you talk.”, “I hope your feet turn into tree roots and plant you in the ground!”, “I hope you die a slow and painful death.”, “I hope you are forced into a life of prostitution.”, “I hope a river spirit turns your tendons into harp strings!”, “I hope you get fat and bloated and ugly.”, “I hope you have to wear a full set of clothing for the rest of your life!”, “I hope you lose all your memories and forget who you are!”, “I hope you age four years in a single day!”, “I hope you become a failure to your idiom.”, “I hope your body becomes your least favorite color.”, “I hope every time someone says your name it feels like getting stabbed in the heart with a needle.”, “I hope you smell like rotten eggs.”, “I hope you turn back into a tadpole, forever! Er… The wolf equivalent I guess.”

It was so much. A seemingly endless wall of vitriol that could almost choke the life out of him with just the threat of it alone. Some bad, some worse, some impossible, and some just downright silly. At some point it all just started to bleed together into meaningless noise.

Hawl was disassociating. Lost in a cascading line of uncompleted thoughts. Until one curse among the cacophony caught his attention. “I hope the animal you love most in the world dies without you ever getting the chance to say goodbye.” At that, Hawl stood up. His eyes locked onto the fat round gray frog that had quietly spat those words out. He was awfully big for a male, matching and even surpassing the size of some of the females around him. And he had a petty, cruel smile drawn out across his wide wide flat face.

Hawl looked at him with a cold calculating fury hidden behind a blank, vaguely upset expression. The wolf had given up on stopping the Telling from being completed, and he couldn't mitigate the severity of the coming storm with violence. But that frog had just indirectly involved Hawl's dad by adding his death to the possible outcomes. He couldn't save himself at this point. But as one final act, he could make absolutely sure that no one else had to suffer as a result of this travesty he found himself in. The wolf arched his back, getting ready to pounce on the frog that had wished death on his last loved one. He was running through scenarios in his head. Trying to find the angle of attack that was most likely to get him the kill without causing unnecessary collateral damage. But then, right before he lept into action, Hawl heard yet another voice join the chorus and throw a wish towards that looming storm.

“I hope you always have a reason to smile!”

Hawl and some of the locals turned to that far too cheerful voice. And saw a little goat with a stressed yet somehow genuine smile. Despite everything, Sierra looked cautiously optimistic as she spoke clearly for anyone to hear. “I hope your coat always stays shiny and unmatted.”

Hawl shot her a warning look. What was she doing!? Now was not the time for her ideodic bravery. Why was she publicly aligning herself with the subject of a frog community's ire? Was she trying to put a target on her back?

The goat noted Hawl's expression, and very deliberately ignored the warning. “I hope you feel loved and welcome wherever you go.”

The rhythmic chorus of croaking and curses slowed as several frogs were distracted and confused by Sierra's participation. The dissonant notes of positivity that she cheerfully added stood in jarring contrast with the mood of the moment. “What do you think you're doing?” Asked one of the frogs beside Sierra. She had the colors of an autumn leaf that was shifting from green to brown, and looked downright offended by the goat’s intrusion, yet also confused by her methods.

Sierra's smile didn't waver. Though it was clear to everyone that she was intentionally playing dumb as she responded. “Me? I'm just saying my wishes for Hawl's future. Same as you.”

The brown green frog gave Sierra a blank look. “Hawl? So you… know this wolf then?”

Say no. Hawl mouthed the words, praying she would deny knowing him. But the goat just cheerfully nodded. “Yep. I'm his sidekick.”

The nearby frogs exchanged looks. Not quite knowing what to make of the goat. There was a hesitation as they looked at each other, trying to read the mob’s opinion of this new rogue element. Once it was clear that no one was sure. One of the frogs cautiously made a guess. She watched the crowd out of the corner of her eye as she uncertainly turned towards Sierra and said. “I hope your hooves get caked in mud?”

Hawl nearly barked at Sierra to run! But the goat was quicker to react. She immediately looked down at the frog and responded with. “I hope you have the best food in abundant supply! And I hope you enjoy it a lot!”

The frog that had cursed her reeled back in confusion as if they had been physically flicked on the nose. Another frog saw this happen and tried to follow the other frog's lead. “I hope your horns get stuck in a tree!”

Sierra snapped around and without missing a beat she responded with a warm smile and kind words. “I hope you find true love.” It was disturbing because she wasn't lying! She clearly meant everything she said, regardless of how unrequited her kindness would be in the end.

The non-frogs of Bogdoor had all either cleared out entirely by this point. Or they were watching from a safe distance for fear of becoming unintentionally involved somehow. Making the town seem far less diverse than it actually was.

“I see what you're trying to do, pokeskull. And it's not going to work.” The autumn colored frog scoffed. “Your comments are just empty words. You can't influence the telling like we can. So just keep out of this. Yeah?”

Sierra's pained but genuine smile did not waver as she nodded her agreement. “I know. I know. I'm not trying to tap into your idiom, I know that won't work. But just because my wishes for everyone won't come true, doesn't mean I can't express them!”

The autumn colored frog narrowed her eyes with a mix of suspicion and confusion. “Why though?”

The goat held her head high. She was so small for her kind, but she towered over the frogs like a lighthouse. She spoke loudly and with feeling, her every word dripping with cringe inducing sincerity. “Because it's true! Because he is my friend. Because I want him to be happy. Because he deserves to be happy. We all do.” Sierra was making a scene and drawing attention. As she spoke, more and more frogs were shifting their focus from the scary wolf to the emotional goat. A frog's attention was a dangerous thing, but she took that spotlight fearlessly. A distraction for Hawl to slip away? No. That wouldn't do much good, and she had something else in mind.

Sierra looked from frog to frog. The pain in her smile easing away as she explained. “I haven't known him very long, and he is kinda quiet. But he is also super nice! He's helping me find my friend! A famous adventuring rat by the name of Madam Rosary. Maybe you have heard of her? No?” The citizens of Bogdoor murmured at the name, but no one responded with any recognition. Much to the disappointment of Sierra. The goat awkwardly cleared her throat before continuing. “She was taken prisoner by two rabbit criminals! We don't know why they took her yet, but Hawl tracked them here.”

One of the frogs perked up at that. “Oh! I know who you are talking about. Small white and big brown? They came through earlier this morning and they had a big bundle of rope with them that was kinda rat sized.” No sooner had he spoken before another frog with a gruff voice shushed him angrily. “What are you doing? Don't tell her that, she works for the big bad wolf!”

“Yes, that's them! Thank you so much!” Sierra exclaimed to the male with excitement and gratitude. Then she turned her attention to the one who shushed him. “As for you. Please don't call him that. Hawl is a good boy.”

The gruff voiced frog was outraged as she indignantly stumbled over her words. “Good b- but he- he tried to eat us!” Murmurs of agreement rumbled throughout the crowd. Though it hadn't escaped Hawl's notice that the number of frogs calling for horrible things to happen to him had lessened significantly. If nothing else than because they were distracted by Sierra.

The stubborn goat stomped her hoof and dragged it towards her across the muddy ground. “He wasn't trying to eat you. He was just trying to defend himself.” She insisted in a stern tone that left no room for discussion. Then she pointed a hoof at Hawl as her voice quickly softened into an appeal for sympathy. “I mean, just look at him. Don't you see how scared he looks right now?”

Hawl suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable and exposed as Sierra threw all the attention back on him again. Hundreds of tiny reflective eyes stared at him. Judging him and searching for weakness.

“That's scared?” One frog blurted out in disbelief. Voicing a thought that was clearly written on most of the faces in the crowd. Another frog with a bow tie narrowed their eyes. “That's not what scared looks like. Ears go up when they're scared, and his ears are all flat. Isn't that right Wol?”

All eyes turned to a rabbit that had previously been desperately trying to convince his friend to abandon whatever drama was playing out in the middle of the street. They shrank in on themselves as they realized that they were suddenly thrust into focus. “Oh umm… Why are you asking m-? Oh that's right you don't have ears. Well… My ears go up when I'm scared but that's a rabbit thing. Wolf ears are different.”

One of the turtles that had stuck around to take notes on the situation was kind enough to divert the spotlight from Wol. They helpfully added some clarifying information for anyone who was less familiar with mammals. “Many predators will fold their ears back when threatened. This unconscious response protects their ears from damage when they fight with each other.”

The autumn colored frog scoffed. “What does it matter if they were scared or not? It doesn't change the fact that they tried to kill some of us.”

“He did not!” Sierra once again stomped her hoof. “I know Hawl. He would never hurt someone who didn't deserve it! He must have just been trying to scare you. In fact, that has to be what he was doing. Because if he really wanted to, then he could just wipe you all out with his Telling.”

Hawl winced at the gasp that ran through the crowd. Especially because Sierra was mistaken. There was a reason he hadn't considered using his Telling. Sure, he could flood the place. But frogs were natural born swimmers and they could hold their breath for an insanely long time. With training, some frogs could go without air for literal hours! So if he did try to use his Telling then he would inevitably drown himself long before he could do any damage to them. Fortunately, Sierra didn't mention what his Telling actually did. So the frogs just saw that she genuinely thought Hawl had the power to wipe them all out and accepted it as fact.

“So he is dangerous then!” One frog croaked with renewed panic. “Well… To be fair… We did start it.” Another frog timidly added. That frog was immediately shot down with glares from her fellow amphibians. But it was too late. Sierra jumped on that comment like a hunter sensing weakness. “Yeah, that's true! Why are y'all trying to hurt him anyway?”

The autumn colored frog scoffed and gave Sierra a sneering look of disgust. As if her simply asking that question was some underhanded violation of an unspoken rule. “That's none of your business. Now get lost.”

By this point in time. Almost all of the chanting voices had gone silent. Was that because they ran out of ideas for bad things to wish upon Hawl? No… most certainly not. What really made them hesitate was purely just the sweet allure of fresh drama. And that stupid, clueless, brave little goat was all too ready to stir up trouble. “Sure, sure. You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable sharing. That's totally fine. But also- I wasn't just talking to you.” Sierra scanned the crowd and then pointed a hoof over the autumn colored frog’s head. “What about you? Yes you, with the super snazzy waistcoat. First off, love the outfit, it looks amazing! Would you mind explaining to me why you are trying to invoke a Telling against my friend? You seem like a fine upstanding gentlefrog, so I doubt you would just go after him for no reason. Right?”

The frog in question smiled at the complement, but his bashful amusement quickly turned to embarrassment and shame as he explained. “Ah, thank you miss. You are right of course, there is a reason. But I'm afraid it's not a very flattering one...” He very clearly wanted to leave it at that. But Sierra blatantly refused his attempts to let it rest. She simply stared at him expectantly until he was socially forced to actually put it into words. “Many of us were… uh… offered a sizable amount of money. On the condition that the wolf did not make it past Bogdoor.”

The drama continued as a gasp rippled through the captivated crowd. No one was wishing misfortune upon Hawl anymore. Instead, the frogs were too busy arguing with each other. “Why did you tell them that?” one complained. To which the finely dressed frog just answered defensively. “Well it is the truth, isn't it?” Several frogs seemed out of the loop and were only just now catching up. “Hold on. We were being paid for this?”, “No one told me.”, “Who's paying? And how much?”, “So what did the wolf do to deserve this?”, “Do we all get paid? Or is the mayor taking it all for themselves?”

“I thought this was self defense!” A brown frog said with a look of disgust and betrayal. “If we were just attacking the wolf for money then we’d be no better than them. Ugh, gross! I want no part of this. I take it back.” Just as the first curse was indistinguishable from plain words, so too was the first retraction. Hawl could still feel that tension in the air, the wind was still lashing his fur with cold fury, and the sky was still burdened by impatient storm clouds. The coming storm would not be swayed by the removal of a single drop of rain. But even if Hawl could not feel it yet, he still knew that at least some of the negativity clinging to him had just been let go. If more frogs withdrew their participation, then the chances of their Telling being invoked would become exponentially less likely!

Hawl cleared his throat and spoke up. “I apologize for causing a scene. I was in a hurry and didn't take the time to fully consider my actions. I hope you can forgive my lack of transparency and allow me to continue my mission without interference.” The wolf figured that an apology might help to reduce the tension. But his long winded and deadpan delivery did nothing to help his case. Frustratingly, Hawl's apology barely seemed to influence the discourse at all as the gathered frogs went right back to talking amongst each other in dozens of small individual conversations.

“We can't stop now can we? We'll get in trouble with the empire if he is allowed to tell them about what we did.” One argued, a point that was swiftly countered. “If he is on a hunt right now then the empire will eventually find out either way. And they won't be happy when they find out that their boy went missing in our town.”

“Now that I think about it. This feels like a crime. I don't want to get arrested and eaten! I take it back too.” One concerned male reasoned. Another male saw the tides starting to shift and hurried to steer it back to the outcome he wanted. “But that money could revitalize this town and put Bogdoor back on the map! Don't throw away this opportunity!” He turned and sneered at Hawl. “I hope the wolf loses his voice and can't ever talk again.”

Another brown frog chimed in “I take it back too.”, before adding. “Yes, we need the money. But we're simple hard working folk, not common criminals. We'll survive.”

One frog's eyes were alight with pure avarice. “They can't condemn an entire town! Especially not if we claim he attacked first. I mean, he did attack first! You all saw it! We had no choice but to curse him.”

A big round frog blinked as a thought occurred to her. “How do we know that we are even getting the money either way? Remember who was promising it. Bandits and criminals can't be trusted to pay their debts. We've been tricked.”

“I don't much care for wolves.” Grumbled a bumpy wart covered frog who was resting on one of the mossy logs. “But I take it back because the goat seems nice. And I don't want her to be upset.” Sierra smiled up at them. “Aww, thank you. That means a lot.” The tide was starting to shift as more and more frogs walked back the hurtful things they said. As they did, the wind seemed to slow just a bit.

“You can't do this!” Shrieked a dirty tan frog covered in wet sand. ”We were so close! We almost had- we-” He seemed distraught that the Telling was starting to fade. So he turned to the one who was obviously to blame. He spat tiny grains of rock and spit at Sierra. “You! I hope all your stomachs bloat with gas until you burst open!”

Hawl felt his chest tighten. “Hey” He barked. But to his surprise, a bunch of the other frogs were jumping to Sierra’s defense as well. “Leave her alone.” One of the frogs she wished good luck to earlier shouted, before adding. “I hope you get stuck out in the sun for a whole day!”

The sandy frog inhaled angrily until he was a literal sphere. Then with seething rage he shrieked. “I hope a megabeast pins you down and pokes you with a stick!”

“You little punk.” A bright shiny green frog sneered from one of the buildings. “Well guess what, I hope you-”

“Enough!” A scratchy old voice demanded with a boom of authority.

Everyone flinched and turned to see a frog with craggy gray blue skin and bright red finger pads. Her front feet were wrapped around a wooden staff which she was using to prop herself up in this strange unnatural bipedal walk. She wore a satchel belt around her waist that reeked of all sorts of alchemical reagents, and her eyes were covered by the very wide brim of a large pointed hat. She was a fair bit bigger than the average frog, but it didn't look like it because of the strange and awkward way she was walking. Instead of being curled up into a ball like most frogs did when at rest, her limbs were stretched out. Making her look gangly and thin. Hawl recognized what she was immediately. She was a witch. A master of her idiom and one of the spiritual leaders of frog kind. When she spoke, the others would surely listen.

The witch looked out at the scene before her and shook her head with grave disapproval. “I care not for the wolf. His fate is of no interest to me. Indeed, I have no words to give to your discussions of morality and dignity.” She lifted a wooden pipe to her lips and inhaled a long puff of smoke that lingered on the underside of her hat. She did not tilt the brim up, yet everyone could tell from her scratchy voice that she was narrowing her eyes in judgment. “Instead, I bring warnings to those who spill their curses so recklessly.” The crowd tensed with worry as the witch hobbled into the center of the commotion where everyone could clearly see her. “You see clearly the might of the Telling you wish to find, but lose sight of the idiom from which it derives.”

Everyone was left puzzling over the witch's cryptic words. As she stopped to take another inhale from her pipe. She was in no hurry to explain, but the questioning looks were clear. She leaned on her staff and sighed. “When it rains, it pours… Tell me, children. Did you think that the wolf would be the only one to get wet?” The crowd gasped in horror before the witch shushed them with a blood red finger. Clear annoyance at the impatience of her audience. “It could have been done, but you are too rash. You do not respect the power you have. Hate, fear, misery. You let it bleed out like water wicking through cloth, spreading as it almost always does. I've seen it so many times before. Already you begin to curse your own.”

The witch glanced up at the veritable wall of fur that was Hawl. The wolf almost caught a glimpse of white eyes under that navy brim, but the dull cold gaze did not linger on him long. She shrugged. “Leave it be and let the wolf go in peace. Or, split open the sky to welcome misery and misfortune for the promise of a stranger's gold. The choice is yours, but you must choose one or the other. There is no such thing as only a bit of despair. That is the harsh lesson of the idiom.” As she hobbled away and concluded her speech she grumbled to herself. “Youngins always so eager to seek out a Telling for any little thing… Maybe they should finish it, just so they can get a taste and see how bitter it is. That would learn em’ real quick, wouldn't it?”

Picking up on what the witch said, Hawl realized something. The frogs which attacked him? They were almost all young. Not tadpole young, they all had their legs and were therefore full adults. But they were mostly young adults. The frogs who were visibly older, like the one who told Hawl that rabbits had come through town, were just watching from afar. They were not participating at all. Like the witch, they had seen one of their Tellings before.

And they wanted no part of it.

The crowd seemed to notice this too. They looked around at each other and then up at Hawl. Some of them took longer than others to make their choice. But soon enough there was consensus. Hawl flopped down onto the ground, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted as he listened to a chorus of little voices mumbling, “I take it back.” to him. Most of the frogs were far more reserved in their retraction than they had been with their initial fiery declaration of malice. But Hawl was still numb with relief to hear them say it.

Sierra by contrast was positively giddy. Jumping around and kicking the air with joy, before mingling with the crowd and trying to personally thank each frog for making the right decision. Though her congratulations made a lot of frogs feel worse for trying to hurt her friend in the first place. After a bit of chatting with the crowd Sierra noticed that Hawl was just lying there and pranced up to him with a chipper smile. “Well that was scary. But I think we'll be okay now. Right?”

Hawl nodded very slowly, then looked up at the cloudy sky. “I know you're eager to continue the hunt. But if it's alright with you. I think I'm just going to lie here for a bit. There is a lot of negativity still targeting me, and I'm worried that any little bit of misfortune could set it off. We'll leave once I can see the sky again through the clouds.”

“That's fine.” Sierra said softly as she lay down beside him. “Take as much time as you need.”

Hawl thought about what almost happened. His carelessness and inability to defuse the situation. If it wasn't for Sierra then he was convinced he would be dying right about now. He looked over to his companion, then whispered to her. “Thank you… I…” His throat closed up as he was unable to find the words for what he was feeling. Then he smiled. “You were right. I did need a sidekick after all.”

Sierra looked up at him with big round eyes, her horizontal pupils shining. And Hawl learned that goats also wagged their tails when they were happy.