How hard could it be to catch a giant wolfeating frogthing, anyway?

Nate was utterly, enthusiastically, irrationally determined.

There's a story my Eduda told me. About how when the sun goes dark, y'know, an eclipse? He looked over his shoulder briefly at Cecil to check they were still listening, before returning to his stalk of the shoreline. Well, it's because a great big giant frog is trying to eat her. So we all have to holler and shout and bang on drums to scare the frog into spitting her back up, and bring the light back.

A somewhat more comical tale than that of the Redbird. But he had room in his heart to be endeared by both.

Nate pressed down a bunch of cattails, nose wrinkling and, Phthewy-ing as their tops brushed his muzzle. Only little croakers scattered into the lake, songs ending with little plunks as they escaped into dark waters.

He pulled back, shaking cattail fluff and grasshoppers off his fur. His tail was wagging. So, y'know. Maybe this is that frog. Stranger things have happened.