The Question Unasked

Adeline's mother drives to the station.

Adeline is in the back, with the frogs.

She is asking them questions.

Why do you want to go to the station?

To catch a train, says Quiet-tartus.

Frogs don't catch trains says Adeline.

(which is not strictly a question)

How else do we get to Paris? asks the knowlesi.

Frogs don't go to Paris, says Adeline.

(nor is that)

They do, says Quiet-tartus. We came here from Paris,

On a train? asks Adeline.

No, says the knowlesi. Not on a train.

How then? asks Adeline.

On a bicycle, says the knowlesi. 

Why don't you go back on a bicycle? asks Adeline.

We don't have a bicycle, says Quiet-tartus. And trains are faster.

Is that why you talk funny? asks Adeline.

Is what why? asks the knowlesi.

Because you're from Paris? says Adeline.

We're not, says the knowlesi. In Paris we're catching a plane.

To Australia, says Quiet-tartus. Our beloved home.

Yes, says the knowlesi, And our families. I really miss mine.

Is your poem for them? asks Adeline.

No, our poem is for us, says the knowlesi. A memento.

Do you live together? asks Adeline. 

Ha ha no! laughs Quiet-tartus. He lives in south eastern Queensland.

And he lives in northern New South Wales, says the knowlesi.

So who will keep the poem and who will keep the paper with nothing on it? asks Adeline.

Quiet-tartus looks at the knowlesi.

Who will?

There is always the post, says Quiet-tartus.

Yes, says the knowlesi. We'll post them back and forth.

Adeline's mother stops in the carpark outside the Saint Malo station.

She has a question. 

To do with frogs and the post.

But decides not to ask it.

What Is This Rule About Pieces?

Maman! calls the little girl, who is waiting for her mother.

What is it, Adeline? asks her mother, emerging from the bushes.

Someone has dropped a paper, says Adeline. 

How thoughtless! says her mother.

We should pick it up and put it in a bin, says Adeline.

It might be dirty, says her mother.

But Adeline doesn't care if it's dirty. She will pick it up with the edge of her shirt.

She runs to the paper.

Oh!

Two frogs are busy, tearing it into two pieces.

You should not do that, says Adeline.

Pardon? says Quiet-tartus. 

You should not make one piece of rubbish into two pieces, says Adeline.

It's not rubbish, says Quiet-tartus. And what is this rule about pieces?

Two pieces of rubbish is worse than one piece, says Adeline.

But the two pieces will be smaller, says Quiet-tartus.

It's still worse, says Adeline.

Yes, says the knowlesi. The two pieces might blow in different directions.

Whose side are you on? asks Quiet-tartus.

Adeline's mother comes up. What's going on? 

The frogs are tearing the paper, says Adeline. I'm trying to stop them.

Perhaps they have a reason, says Adeline's mother. Look, there's writing on this side. It looks like a poem.

This is our poem bag, says the knowlesi. We're trying to make it more manageable.

Why not just fold it? asks Adeline's mother.

If you were a frog you wouldn't suggest that, says the knowlesi.

Of course, says Adeline's mother. Let me fold it for you.

Adeline's mother folds the poem bag neatly, until it is small.

We would have preferred a piece each, says Quiet-tartus.

Adeline's mother unfolds the poem bag, separates the pieces, and refolds them.

One piece won't have the poem on, says Adeline. 

But they will not know which, says Adeline's mother. 

The frogs like the idea of not knowing which of them has it.

They thank Adeline's mother.

Can we drop you anywhere? asks Adeline's mother.

The station, says Quiet-tartus.

 Easy, says Adeline's mother. Our car is here. Hop in.

The frogs hop into the back seat, with their folded papers. 

One has the poem, one hasn't.

It was lucky, that they met Adeline's mother.

To Split Him In Two

It's not easy to carry a poem bag, when you are two frogs.

Especially with the wind blowing.

Many times it has escaped their webbed grasp and blown into the bushes.

And they have retrieved it.

We'll probably miss the train, says the knowlesi.

Then we'll just catch the next one, says Quiet-tartus. I imagine they go all the time.

Yes, says the knowlesi. Trains will go all the time.

And what does it matter if we're not on the same one as Arthur? says Quiet-tartus.

I thought he had the ticket, says the knowlesi.

He doesn't, says Quiet-tartus. Only one for the plane.

The knowlesi remembers that he already knows this.

And frogs don't need a ticket, says Quiet-tartus.

If they're with someone who has a ticket, says the knowlesi.

We haven't tested that, says Quiet-tartus. 

No, says the knowlesi.

He looks up at the poem bag, which they are holding aloft as they travel.

Quiet-tartus looks up at it too.

A gust of wind tries to take it.

Hold tight, says the knowlesi.

I am, says Quiet-tartus. We can't lose it. 

It's our inspiration, says the knowlesi.

I know, says Quiet-tartus. 'Saint Michael poured down his fury on the devil'.

'To split him in two', says the knowlesi.

I wonder if it would be easier to carry if we split it in two, says Quiet-tartus.

That would wreck the poem, says the knowlesi.

Front from back, says Quiet-tartus. Not horizontal.

Then who gets to carry the poem side? asks the knowlesi.

We'll take turns, says Quiet-tartus.

They stop, to work on splitting the poem bag in two.

They are working on it when a car passes slowly and stops a short distance ahead of them.

A little kid gets out. And her mother.

They head for the bushes, to pee.

Wasn't Blowing

Saint Maclou has returned, from seeing Madame Ponty.

What did she say? asks Terence.

Her pony is indisposed, says Saint Maclou.

Good, says Terence.

But you may have a lesson tomorrow, says Saint Maclou. And she will provide you with a helmet.

Will it have yellow eyes? asks Terence.

That's unlikely, says Saint Maclou.

Terence, come and sit in the garden with me, says Belle.

Yes, go, says Saint Méen. I'll get your room ready.

I could do it, says Belle.

No need, says Saint Méen. I just need to open a window.

Oh. Okay, says Belle.

She and Terence go into the garden.

Roo-kai flies down.

I hate to tell you this, says Roo-kai.

Why? asks Terence. 

Never mind why. What? asks Belle.

The frog that Pierre-Louis took with him was a rana, says Roo-kai. 

Are you certain? asks Belle.

Yes, says Roo-kai. I saw it being transferred to Arthur's pocket.

But that doesn't mean they didn't have the other two, says Belle.

No it doesn't, says Roo-kai.

Well then, says Belle.

But they didn't, says Roo-kai.

How do you know? asks Belle.

I saw the poem bag, blowing down the road, says Roo-kai. I flew down and landed on it. And guess who was underneath it?

My frogs! cries Terence. The bag wasn't blowing!

No it wasn't blowing, says Roo-kai. They were taking it somewhere.

Did you stop them? asks Belle.

No, says Roo-kai. They were determined.

Which way were they going? asks Belle. 

The same way as Arthur and Pierre-Louis, says Roo-kai.

Oh, the dear creatures! says Belle. 

She imagines the frogs, trying to carry their poem bag to the station.

Good Like An Actor

 Arthur! shouts Pierre Louis. Slow down! I need to catch up!

Arthur slows down a little. 

Pierre-Louis catches up.

You went off without the frogs, says Pierre-Louis.

I know, says Arthur. I'd done enough waiting. Did you bring them?

One, says Pierre-Louis.

Only one? says Arthur. How come?

And it's not even the right one, says Pierre-Louis. 

Let's see, says Arthur.

Pierre-Louis takes one hand off the handlebars of his bike.

Revealing the rana.

What happened? asks Arthur.

I rode off in a hurry, says Pierre-Louis. I didn't want Belle to see what it was.

That makes no sense, says Arthur.

To see EXACTLY what it was, says Pierre-Louis. Of course I wanted her to see that it was a frog,

One frog, says Arthur.

And I gave her to understand I had another one, says Pierre-Louis.

He was very good, says the rana. Just like an actor.

Okay, says Arthur. I get it. The frogs Gaius wants me to bring back to Australia are missing. And we've got this..... what?

Rana temporania, says the rana. With a penchant for travel.

How about that? says Pierre-Louis

Okay, bring it to Paris, says Arthur. But not to Australia.

Aw, says the rana.

As if Gaius would be fooled by a rana temporania, says Arthur.

Well, it certainly isn't my problem, says Pierre-Louis.

Excuse me, says the rana. Are we cycling all the way to Paris?

Of course not, says Pierre-Louis. We'll be catching the train.

Good, says the rana. Because I can't see myself going all the way to Paris wrapped round a handlebar.

It was your decision to come, says Pierre-Louis. Get used to a bit of discomfort

You're not good with frogs, says Arthur,

And you are? says Pierre-Louis. 

Arthur thinks he is better with frogs than Pierre-Louis. 

Give it here, says Arthur.

Pierre-Louis detaches the rana from his handlebar, and hands it to Arthur.

Arthur shoves the rana into his pocket.

Next to a cold potato fritter.

Two Into Wrong

Frogs! calls Pierre-Louis again.

Two common frogs are nearby. 

They are mainly nocturnal, so do not answer.

Belle comes out of the cottage.

Any luck? 

No, says Pierre-Louis. How crucial is it for these frogs to return to Australia?

The common frogs cannot help but hear the question. 

Crucial as! says Belle. Gaius says they're endangered.

The common frogs may be common, but they know what it means to be endangered.

Shall we tell them? says one common frog to another.

We should, says the other. After all, we frogs are brothers.

Not really, says the first one. 

Cousins, says the other.

You or me? says the first one.

I'll do it, says the other.

The other common frog hops out from low bushes.

Crah! The sun! It is bright!

There's one of them! says Pierre-Louis.

That's a common frog, says Belle. A local.

Rana temporania, says the common frog. 

I don't suppose you've seen a quiritatus or a knowlesi? asks Belle.

I may well have, says the rana temporania. What do they look like?

The quiritatus is light brown and slender, says Belle, with a white line down its side. And the knowlesi is light brown with a black stripe from its snout to its arm, and a half golden eye.

You should have mentioned that first, says the rani temporania. The half golden eye. They were here earlier.

Where did they go? asks Pierre-Louis. 

Under the fence, says the rana.

Belle runs across to the fence.

Nothing. Not even the pony.

Looks like we've lost them, says Pierre-Louis. Too bad.

Arthur's not going without them, says Belle.

Looks like he has, says Pierre-Louis.

Yes, there is Arthur, cycling away in the distance.

Rats! says Belle. Unless, maybe he found them.

She runs back inside.

I'm light brown, says the rana.

So what? says Pierre-Louis. I've no time for herpetology. 

Take me with you, says the rana.

No way Pierre-Louis is going to do that.

He dashes off to get his bike, and follow Arthur to the station.

He must not miss that train.

Wait! calls Belle. Arthur doesn't have them!

But I have! calls Pierre-Louis. Oops! I dropped one!

He does a quick u-turn and heads back to scoop up the rana.

Changed your mind? asks the rana.

Pierre-Louis waves the rana at Belle.

Belle gives him a thumbs-up.

She wouldn't have let me go otherwise, says Pierre-Louis.

He pedals fast, thinking only of catching up with Arthur and not missing the train.

The Gift Of Finding

Terence and Roo-kai go inside.

Saint Méen is clearing the table.

Guess what? says Terence. 

We saw, says Belle. You nearly fell into the field with the pony.

It ate all the sugar, says Terence. And then ran away.

Just as well, says Belle. You weren't wearing a helmet.

And you haven't had a lesson, says Saint Maclou.

I had a lesson, says Terence. It was Don't believe ponies.

You just had a bad start, says Saint Méen.

I'll speak to Madame Ponty, says Saint Maclou.

He goes out.

We'd better be going, says Pierre-Louis. Ready, Arthur?

Arthur picks up a leftover potato fritter, and shoves it into his pocket. 

He's ready.

You've forgotten something, says Belle.

The frogs! says Terence. 

Where are they? asks Arthur.

Where were they when you saw last them? asks Saint Méen.

Don't ask me, says Arthur. Belle had them.

I put them down by the pile of potatoes when I got here, says Belle. 

Outside? says Pierre-Louis. They could be anywhere. We shall miss our train!

Terence runs into the back garden.

No pile of potatoes.

He runs back inside.

The potatoes are missing! criesTerence.

We ate them, remember, says Belle. You helped me peel them.

A terrible thought strikes Terence.

He had been talking, while he was peeling. 

And not looking at what he was peeling.

He has peeled his own frogs!

And then they have been boiled, mashed and eaten by the grownups. 

You all ate them! cries Terence. 

No, says Belle. We would have noticed. So would you. You had some soup.

It tasted funny, says Terence.

That was the food colour, says Saint Méen. Let's split up, and look for them.

Why don't you give us the gift of finding? says Terence.

Alas, says Saint Méen. Maclou and I cannot give the gift of finding.

Really? says Pierre-Louis, I would have thought it was easier than giving the gift of speech.

And what would you know about it? asks Saint Méen.

Nothing apparently, says Pierre-Louis.

He goes outside and starts calling the frogs. 

Frogs! 

He must have forgotten their frog names.