"Wake up. Come on, today's the day."

The world is too bright. Liam cannot open his eyes without recoiling from the pain. "Huh?”

A shadow mercifully blocks the blistering light. He dares himself to open one eye, just a peek, and let himself adjust. He opens the other, does the same, and slowly looks up at the figure towering over his sleeping form.

“Cora?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Actually waking you up instead of the other way around! Come on, we have a whole day ahead of us.”

Groggy, he lifts himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the sudden movement makes him dizzy. “You sound suspiciously optimistic.”

“Because.” This time, there’s no containing the grin that stretches Cora’s cheeks. A pearlescent smile that erases the vestiges of his obscure nightmares. “I slept on watch but then I got–"

"You slept on watch? That's dangerous."

Her smile dampens. "I'm sorry, after the third hour I couldn't keep my head up anymore and I didn't want to wake you up."

"Well, we did make it through the night." And though he won't admit it, he is glad Cora never woke him up. He feels like shit, and he was supposed to have rested well. He can't imagine running on so little sleep. "Just make sure next time you wake me up even if I'm annoyed by it."

"Got it."

Liam gives a thumbs-up while the other rubs the morning grit off his face. "Please keep telling me about what happened. I'm sorry for interrupting."

Some of her old enthusiasm returns, stretching her smile into a grin once more. "No worries. Anyways, I got woken up by this beaver-thing an hour ago. It broke some sticks and was running somewhere and I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I followed it. And…”

Cora stops. Stares at him expectantly. “Whaaaaat?” He yawns. Damn it. He must’ve slept for ten hours, minimum, and yet his body is slow to respond to his mental demands that he gets moving.

“I heard something churning in the distance. I got closer and then past this huge tree, there was a little valley and there was a river inside it.” She jumps up and down. She opens her arms wide and lifts them straight to either side of her. “A river. It was huge. I’ve never seen one before back home, but this one is like hundreds of feet across. The water’s kind of strong, but it’s a beautiful dark blue like the lakes back home. There were animals in it too, I think. These big shadows traveling with the river scared me at the beginning, but none of them jumped at me or anything. We have to see it now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You said you finally found it? And there’s animals swimming in it?” Cora nods eagerly. Liam's shoulders relax and he slumps. “I thought we were going to have to walk the entire day.”

“It’s probably a twenty-minute walk. I didn’t get lost because I traveled straight from where we slept. It’s an easy path.”

He narrows his eyes. “How do I know I’m not dreaming?” It sounds too good to be true. Likely is. He dreads being startled awake and finding the two suns directly above them, leaving only a few hours to spare before the dual sunsets cast the world into darkness again.

Cora’s grin falls. “You’re not. I actually found the river.”

The situation seems too optimistic. He has never had such a good fortune befall him before. “I want to test it myself.” Without much thought, he begins to pinch his arm using two fingers, feeling the skin about to break against his nails. Suddenly, Cora shoves his pinching one away. He catches a glimpse of a crescent-shaped scab on her forearm before she hisses and pulls her arm away, clutching her wrist.

“Cora!” Alarm awakens him and he rushes over to her side, unsure what to do, so he wraps an arm around her shoulders as she nurses her wrist to her chest. “You told me that your wrist was okay.”

“It was. I must’ve moved something because–ow!” She rubs the top of her wrist between the more prominent bones, biting her lip as she then massages a specific area with a finger. “I can’t bend my wrist backward. Look.” She pushes her hand back, then flinches, letting her hand fall back down. “It just happened. And I thought I was getting better.”

“Best you can do now is just leave it alone and don’t bend it back.”

“I won’t. It hurts so much.”

“Then let’s hurry to the river.” His limbs tremble. Actual sweet fresh water. He’s not dreaming. Then he looks at Cora’s arm and hand. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.” Involuntarily, his gaze flickers towards the scab shaped like a waxing crescent. Catches Cora’s gaze, who looks away shamefully, hiding her arm from sight. “Do you want to tell me why that’s bothering you?”

As far as he’s concerned, a small wound isn’t anything to feel ashamed of. She must’ve gotten it when she appeared in the forest, or while running from the boar-thing and tumbling through thick bushes.

“I…” She rubs her forearm, then over the scab which she traces lightly with a finger. “I tested if I was dreaming myself when I got here. I pinched myself too hard and even though you can’t tell, it’s still swollen and throbs sometimes.”

“Is it getting better?”

“Yeah, thank the lord. It’s not like my wrist, at least.”

These are minor injuries, things that inconvenience her but don’t pose a direct threat to her survival. Which is good. Liam is glad that she finds herself in good health, and likely tired to a degree. He himself feels tired, and that's despite the years spent on the streets conditioning his body for travel by foot.

“I’m glad you’re doing better.” He glances at Cora’s backpack and the newly emptied bottle peeking through an open pocket. His throat clenches, and he trusts her word, so he takes one of the last filled bottles and drains it. When he finishes, he wiggles the finished bottle next to Cora’s, no doubt having been drunk during her exploration.

“Me too. Are you ready to head to the river, then?”

He ties his blanket around his neck. “Let’s go.”

Cora wears her backpack, noticeably lighter as it fails to drag her shoulders down, and she tightens the straps before setting on her way. Liam adjusts his knife, smoothing out the kinks of his hair with his bare hands, giving up when the tufts shoot back up, and follows.

The purple-infused bark of the trees springing up all across the flat terrain gradually loses its luster. Where rust seems to color the dirt, it too loses the reddish colors, resorting to a deeper shade of brown. The trees, too, show patches of brown between purple walls, their drooping flowers more erect, the red cores a lighter, healthier shade of pink.

Soon enough, he hears it. The tumbling and distant roaring of untold millions of gallons of water crashing against bedrock. As Cora sneaks past a grove, he stops for a split second to listen to the churning river better. Punctuating the constant roar are sporadic croaks, baritone and drawn-out for several seconds at a time.

“When you said you saw animals in the river,” Liam says, loud enough so Cora can hear him and stop. “How big are we talking about here?”

She turns around to face him. Feet away from one of the purple trees, she doesn’t seem to mind as she taps a finger to her chin. “About this big.” She opens her arms wide. About the size of a medium-sized dog. “It’s loud there, though. Very loud.” She cups a hand to her ear, tilting her head slightly. “Are you hearing that, too?”

Another croak stretches long and deep, temporarily eclipsing the river’s churning might. “That’s what I’m worried about. What animal sounds that loud and deep?”

“A big frog. Wait, no, a toad. I remember watching a video about an African bullfrog and it sounded like that.”

He shakes his head. “This loud? That sound is louder than the river.”

“Then it’s probably close to us.”

He shakes his head. “It sounds like it’s coming from the river. Didn’t you hear anything like that when you found the river?”

“No, all I heard was the water drowning out everything else.” Another croak. Drawn out, deep, and loud, interrupting the steady crashing of the river on rock. He’s sure of it, that the source of the croaks is positioned where the river must be.

“Mmm. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Cora’s usually-straight posture sags. “Like the bird, isn’t it?”

Liam’s hands tighten at his sides. His right goes to the hilt of the knife. What can he do against something that size? He’s sure it must be immense. Bigger than the boar. Else what can produce such a loud noise? Most of the animals that they’ve seen resemble those back on Earth, albeit with different coloring, patterns, and a few extra body parts.

There is a name for that, he recalls. Dredging up the memories of when he had been more hopeful. Convergent evolution. The climate here isn’t that different from the forests of Oregon during early summer. Slightly balmy, and somewhat humid. Perfect conditions for toads.

Yes, Cora is right in mentioning that it sounds like an African bullfrog. He’s heard other toads, and though their croaks are higher-pitched, they carry across lakes as if they were squatted beside him. If all other animals have looked like their Earth counterparts–at least superficially–then convergent evolution must mean that the origin of the croaks is a toad.

It makes sense. Every animal has tried attacking them since their arrival on this world. He knows that what must be the toad-thing will, too. What awaits them at the source of their survival and safety. Ironic.

“We can’t go there.” Liam tightens his jaw. “If that toad or whatever is causing the croaks is as big as I think it is, we’re in big trouble.”

Cora frowns. “I swear, I never heard it or saw anything off when I got to the river.”

“You could’ve gotten lucky.”

“Lucky? Okay, finding the river itself was dumb luck, but most of the land around the valley was just dense forest. That tree I passed to get to the river? It's the only place where I could move around. Everywhere else is just too packed. Don’t you think you’re overreacting? There wasn’t enough space for anything big to move around. ”

“You said it yourself.” Before he knows it, his hand is holding the knife, pointed down so he doesn’t nick Cora or himself. “It’s like the bird. You’re letting your guard down when you should be thinking about what might be waiting for us.”

She sighs. “I’m tired of this.”

“So am I. But what we have to do–”

“Is necessary,” she finishes. “Yeah, I know, I know.”

“Then why are you acting like we have another choice?”

Cora’s knuckles whiten as she pulls on her backpack’s straps. “I was thinking that maybe we could throw a rock or something and distract the animal. Then, if we saw it, we could tell if it was dangerous to us or not.”

Lian rubs his jaw. “A diversion. It’s a good idea. The only thing that’s still worrying me is if that thing notices us and comes after us instead. Why don’t we try to find another pa–”

“Liam.” Cora stares at him. Her amber eyes flare into a multitude of fiery colors as the morning sunlight catches on her irises. He feels his soul wither under her penetrating glare.

“Yes?”

She takes a step forward. He takes a step back. He drops his knife and makes no attempt to pick it up. All he can do is feel torn open and have his insides exposed to her. The entirety of his life spans a single page for her to read.

“We are running out of time.”

And with those words, she turns on her heel and goes back to the path she was taking. Moments later, a croak startles flocks of birds out of the trees. The bass undertones shakes the trees, splintering their trunks. His muscles vibrate violently, and he clenches them to stave off the worst of the effects. His head pounds as the vibrations intensify, and then falls in stages, until there is nothing left but the ringing in his ears and a dull headache.

Not far ahead, Cora struggles to her feet, holding a hand out in front of her and the other to her forehead. She grimaces as she opens one eye. Then another. She looks as if she’s about to cry, her lower lip trembling and a host of tiny facial movements that he is all-too familiar with.

Liam is ready to come to her side and comfort her, but her fists clench and her eyes close. When she opens them again, her face is composed, all the infinitesimal muscle movements gone.

“This is why,” she says slowly, her voice trembling. “We have to hurry. Whatever the hell that thing is–” He flinches. “It’s blocking what we’ve been working to find for days. What we need to do now is deal with it, or else we are going to die out here because we want to be safe than sorry.”

“And we’re going to die if we head straight to that monster.” There is no other word to describe the being that shook the land with a single croak.

“And we’re going to die if we try to find another way to the river. At least we have a guaranteed way to get there. How long until we find another? Another day? We can’t wait any more.”

“I–” He what? The words die on his lips. He can’t find anything in his brain to convince her otherwise without telling her that he’s the guy from second grade. That he doesn’t want to lose her again, after all these years reconnecting with her in these impossible odds.

That he played their interactions over within his thoughts for years until other life events and other experiences filled in the old, pushing it back towards dusty shelves that he hadn’t dared touch in fear of falling back into his old trap of believing that he could someday recover that innocent joy.

“We have to,” she whispers. “We’re down to almost nothing. I worked hard to find my way through that path to the river. I don’t want to go through it all over again and fail the next time. Please.”

He shakes his head. Stares at his calloused hands, at his grimy shirt and pants. Who knows when they’ll get washed again. The stink must be horrifying to the casual observer, but both Cora and himself have traversed the outdoors for days without showering or brushing their teeth much. A quick morning oral rinse is all they have.

All of that can change, though. Beyond that toad–if it is a toad–there is water. So much of it that he’ll never run out again. All he has to do is listen to her. To stand up to his every instinct screaming at him to take the cautious route, because they can’t afford wasting any more time.

For the first time in over a decade, he lets go.

“I trust you.”

Those three words prompt Cora to hug him with one arm. The gesture is brief, but the ghost of her touch leaves flames fanning down his shoulder and into his hand, shivers prickling his skin.

“A rock. I can’t throw very far, so I need you to throw it.”

He nods. “And then what?”

“Whatever that thing is should go investigate. If it doesn’t, we’ll wait and see if we can spot it. If we do, then we’ll turn around and find a different path like you said. Just like that. I don’t want to risk fighting whatever that thing is.”

“Okay.” His palms are clammy. Since when is the last time he’s felt this way? Small, tiny, afraid. Plenty of times. He shouldn’t be a stranger to feeling so utterly small, but he could never adjust to feeling so insignificant. Still can’t.

“And well, if we succeed…” She shrugs, then smiles. “We won’t have to move around anymore.”

“Hopefully.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”