Tara River was beautiful, with tall green trees, and warm breeze. The birds and bugs exchanged calls. But the river, which was the point for the name, had no water.

All dried up.
The people of Gippsland, Victoria thought of it as a sudden drought, or some natural phenomena.

But Theodore knew otherwise.
He skipped school and skipped dancing class and ventured all the way to the river, sneaking out of the sight of some authorities and scientists. Then, he tracked it to the source, hiking for hours. His legs ached, pressing and twisting. Sweat trickled down his dirty blonde brow. The Sun had no mercy on him.

When he did arrived, he groaned.
Knew it.
Just as I expected.
I hate this.
Why am I right?

Right at the source, the beginning of the river, was a frog.
It looked like your typical everyday frog.
But it wasn't.

The symbol on its back gave it away. Black, in swirls and patterns.
"Right, Tiddalik," he sighed, slumping down onto his knees. "Mate, let's make this straight. Get the water out of your mouth."

It stared with cold eyes.
"God damn it!" he whined to himself, and the frog."Give me a break here!"

Croak.
"Wanna play it the hard way, eh?"

Croak.
"You know, I've twisted a Rainbow Serpent with my hands because he played cheat in Hide N Seek before," he grinned, and took off his backpack.
"I can twist you until you open that mouth of yours."

Croak.
Croak.
"Fine by me, though, I'd prefer a chat or two."

Croak.
"Come 'ere, froggy."
He took steps to the dry river, his pants rolled up to his knees, and sleeves folded to the elbows. As soon as his right feet stepped on the rock Tiddalik sat on, it leaped. He had no time to react when it clung to his right thigh.

The charm pounded and buzzed in his pocket, a buzz by his left thigh.
He grunted, "I'm not a fan of you lot."

Croak.
"No, I can't translate your croaks, and I don't care!"
Theo swung his right leg around, wiggling them along. The frog's grip tightened around him.

He bent, and tore it off his leg with one pull. He plucked it, and brought it to his face. "Right, mate. Now, open up."
It slipped off from his grip, and landed on his elbow. He swiped his arm, it leaped again and this time- knocked out his breath when it kicked his face, and sprayed liquid on it. He staggered backwards, it came back to its original position. His face was wet, and smelled horrible. 

Theo was known to be quite graceful with his perfect pireoutte, but this was the exact opposite.

Croak.

"You peed on me!" he wiped his face with his sleeves, and flinched. "God, I don't wanna die yet."

Croak.

"I know you're a frog, but, you're the Molok!" he sighed. Theo sat on the rock beside the frog, brown eyes kept on it. The cold yellow eyes stared back. "I don't expect you to have that unsophisticated thing too."

Croak.

"Mate, I'm not a killer. Or mom would kill me," he muttered softly. 

Croak.

He cursed under his breath.

Tiddalik...

Frog that drinks a whole river.

"Oh, dear," he ran a hand through his hair. "I'll have to make you laugh, huh?"

Croak.

"Right," he nodded, gritting his teeth. "Okay, then."

He stood up, and walked off. 

Damn mythology.

Are there even eels in this river?

Dead fishes and algae laid in the dry river, some flopping in remaining puddles. He knelt, and climbed into it. Wet soil squished under his shoes. His eyes darted around, his hand on his left pocket.

No buzzing.

Not here.

He took steps ahead. After what seem like an hour under the merciless Mother Sun. 

A vibration.

A buzz.

It's here.

He knelt down, knees brushed against the soil, and let out a huge breath. "Great Nabunum, I, Theodore Too, come in peace in hope you'd let me take you to make Tiddalik laugh."

"Oh, hell, no."

He looked up, eyes darting around. "Where are you, great Nabunum?"

"If I tell you, you'd take me."

"You've done it before."

"That greedy frog. I'm not going to twist myself for him again."

"I'll find you, Nabunum," he announced, one knee up. Talking was the only option to make use of sound. "I swear it."

"I doubt that," the voice replied. "Saw you in here for hours. You'll get bored."

His charm ligthened up so bright, that he could see the green light from outside of the pockets, the silhuotte of a stone clear and bright.

He's right here.

But where, exactly?

He turned to his right. Dead fishes.

To the left. One fish flopping, one algaea.

To the front. Soil.

Behind, a bump.

He swooped his hand to the bump, grabbing it tight. It zoomed under him, he grunted, and lifted teh grip above his head.

"How do you know?"

"Figures," he snickered, and stretched the eel. "I'm not a killer, mate, but if you don't want to twist, I'd  make you."

He ran back to Tidallik, his fingers fiddling and wrists snapping as he twisted the eel to a knot. 

"Young man, it hurts!"

"I'm sorry," he said, brushing the slippery skin slightly. "But Gippsland needs this river. And you need the water to live."

"Fair enough."

"Hey, froggy!" he called, panting and out of breath. His knees buckled as he fell, but his grip held still and tight. His feet burned in his shoe. He doubted he could dance again in one day. "There, a twisted eel. Now laugh."

And so it did.

It was booming, and loud. As it laughed, its mouth opened, and water spilled out of it. First a drop, then a puddle, then the whole river.

"I'll never take a dip in here, or ever touch it anymore from this day on," he muttered, eyebrows scrunched together. He began to untie the eel. "Disgusting."

"And I have to live in there, human."

"God bless you, Nabunum," he shrugged. "May you live in the water from a frog's throat peacefully."

"Funny."

He tossed the eel back into the river, and glanced at Tiddalik. "Goodnight, mortal."

It spilled out the last drop of water, before its eyes drooped and it fell asleep.

I'll have to do all this  again when that froggy wakes up.

Just the thought of it made him sigh.