Boglodite -

“She died,” the boglodite whispered. “Of fever. While I was digging. I thought if I drained the marsh, I could afford a healer. But I was too late. So I came back here. To the place that took my time. And the marsh… it offered a trade. My body for the memory of her voice.”

Then she heard the humming.

Finn turned. His eyes were the same milky white as the sheep’s. “It’s nice here, El. No storms. No chores. Just the hum.” boglodite

“Then you know what Finn is to me,” she said. “You know what I would trade.” “She died,” the boglodite whispered

“You were a father once,” she said softly. “Before the marsh. You had a daughter.” boglodite