“It knows us,” Finn whispered.
“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.” boglodite
“You were a father once,” she said softly. “Before the marsh. You had a daughter.” “It knows us,” Finn whispered