The city of Se Lai was filled with music! Chorals and choruses, day and night. Everyone sang, no matter what their talent, or their voice.

However, I was mute with embarrassment. I knew that my frog croaking would bring me shame and ruin the joy that filled Se Lai. So I spoke only and did not lilt my voice in song.

That is, till I met Quioui.

A young woman, with her light brown skin and dancing hazel eyes, she drew me out, and encouraged me to test my voice. After a couple of croaking verses, she smiled nodding far more sagely than some one so young should. She taught me to find my own range, those verses and songs that benefited the deep baritone voice I had.

Soon I was rumbling and shaking glasses and windows with my stanzas, with Quioui singing in soprano counterpoint. At night, with her in my bed, we sang softer songs, more tender and warmer, but ending a booming climax.

For weeks we sang as one, but Quioui was a song that was meant to be shared. When she left me, I left Se Lain in song.