Toulymong

Arthur has woken at last.

He has looked around the camper.

Sweezus has gone.

Probably to meet up with Gaius and Ludwig.

He rolls off the bed, and slides open the door of the camper.

A frog hops inside.

Merde! says Arthur. 

You speak French! says the knowlesi.

(yes, it's the knowlesi).

And English, says Arthur. But not frog.

We can't all speak frog, says the knowlesi. 

We meaning who ? says Arthur.

Toulymong, says the knowlesi.

(his French pronunciation is somewhat lacking).

So anyway, says Arthur, not bothering to correct him, I don't suppose you've seen a guy wearing shorts anywhere?

Shorts anywhere? says the knowlesi. 

Not the shorts, says Arthur. Him.

What does he look like? asks the knowlesi.

Like this, says Arthur, getting his phone out and showing the knowlesi a photo of Sweezus eating a fig.

It's from some time ago, but it still looks like Sweezus. Eating a fig.

What's that? asks the knowlesi, with suspicion.

A photo of him, says Arthur. Have you seen him?

What's he eating? asks the knowlesi. It's my size and it's brown and patchy.

Arthur looks. It's a fig.

Phew! says the knowlesi. This guy cuts frogs up, you know.

He doesn't, says Arthur. He hasn't even cut the fig up.

He's EATING it, says the knowlesi.

Where is he? asks Arthur. 

Upstairs, says the knowlesi. If you go up, don't tell them I'm here.

I won't, says Arthur. Is there a room number?

I'm a frog, says the knowlesi. I don't pay attention to room numbers.

I'll find them, says Arthur. Are you staying in the camper?

Yes, says the knowlesi. I need to hide from Letitia.

Okay, says Arthur.

He throws on some clothes, gets out of the camper, enters the building and goes up the stairs.

It's clear which room his friends are in. 

The door is open and it's sheer pandemonium inside.