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Jasher snorted.

“They get bigger?” Rachel asked.

“Big enough to prey on men, I am told,” Jasher whispered. “I have never ventured deep enough into the swamp to behold one. Keep a sharp lookout. We should generally avoid speaking. Certain creatures have sharp ears. It would be better if we passed unnoticed.”

Jason nodded. He kept watching the water. The only sounds were the gentle swishing of the scull and the mellow hum of insects. Jason glimpsed many more big frogs, both swimming and squatting. He saw a snake streak through the water, just as the mud viper had, and steal a big, hairy spider off of a tree trunk.

Insects abounded—dragonflies, mosquitos, gnats, water skimmers, and beetles in metallic greens and blues. As Jasher had promised, they kept their distance from the boat.

After some time Jason spotted an amoeboid shape floating in the water ahead, like a huge wad of snot. “I see some slime,” he whispered.

Jasher navigated around it.

As night fell, the swamp blackened. Jasher found a soggy island, and he and Jason hauled the craft out of the water.

“The night is dreadful in the swamp,” Jasher whispered. “Or so I have heard. I am told it is best to stay out of the water and to remain in your boat.”

A deep, resonant croak, almost a bark, sounded somewhere not far behind Jason. He gasped and turned quickly but could see nothing through the murk. Jasher placed a steadying hand on his arm.

“Was that a frog?” Rachel murmured.

The croak was soon answered by another farther off. Before long the swamp was alive with a confused chorus of deep-throated croaking. Some of the croaks were like massive belches, others almost musical, others fierce and threatening.

Jasher moved between Rachel and Jason, whispering softly. “I had heard the night sounds of the swamp were unnerving. Never did I imagine it would be like this.”

“I never imagined frogs freaking me out,” Rachel whispered back.

“Swallow some insect repellant,” Jasher suggested.

Jason and Rachel consumed the gel gratefully.

Soon it became as dark as the bowels of a cave. Jason found that closing or opening his eyes made no difference.

New sounds joined the frog chorus. High-pitched squeals began to warble in long, quavering notes. Low moans like the winding of giant horns drifted over the swamp from far away, as if some immense creature were mourning. A sudden clicking like castanets, sometimes alarmingly close, added a startling rhythm to the cacophony. The relative quiet of the day was utterly forgotten.

“Try to sleep,” Jasher whispered loudly over the increasing din. “I will keep watch.”

Jason had to curl up to lie in the skiff, and he had difficulty getting comfortable. His mind raced in the blackness, imagining cunning snakes stealing into the skiff, or methodical masses of slime oozing over the gunwale, mindlessly craving his warm flesh. The ghastly clamor of the swamp would not relent. Strange dreams invaded Jason’s fitful slumber.

When Jason awakened, all was quiet again. And he could see, though the light was dim.

“Good morning,” Jasher said in a hoarse, hushed tone. “Let’s make haste today. I do not yearn for many nights like the past one.”

“Is your throat okay?” Jason asked.

“A little sore,” Jasher replied.

Rachel handed Jason a sandwich made of gutplug and dried meat. He wondered how long the other two had been awake. He found the sandwich difficult to chew, but his hunger made it delicious.

Jason stood up and could barely stretch because his back and neck felt so cramped. He noticed several dead snakes on the island beside the boat, heads crushed or severed.

“Were these here before?” Jason asked.

“I had a busy night,” Jasher replied.

They got the skiff back into the water.

Jason knelt in the prow, scanning the turbid water for evidence of danger.

Jasher plied the oar expertly to maneuver them through mazes of muddy islands, tangled deadfalls, and slick masses of slime. Late in the afternoon they found a treeless lake. In the center was a long, muddy island, larger than any island they had yet seen in the swamp. At the far