The fog was thick and lazy over a green and sluggish river. The sun was rising but had yet to show its face, and the willows all were washed in blue-grey light. Every few seconds a dense clump of reeds would press the side of the barge as it squeezed along through the still and narrow waterway, and from their banks the unseen frogs called with a long, slow [i]rar-r-r-r-r-r[/i].

[color=steelblue]"Mornin', cousin."[/color]

The Nuzleaf sitting on his stack of faggots at the front of the barge blinked and turned his head back to his ferryman. "You know him?"

[color=steelblue]"No,"[/color] said Bromwell, ducking under the bough of some drooping swamp-tree without thinking or breaking the rhythm of his slow, hard pushes with the bargepole. [color=steelblue]"But I'm sure we're blood kin. Big family."[/color] 

The Nuzleaf nodded. He'd been more chatty at the start of the trip, but now he looked deflated, dozing off as the town ahead began to stir awake. "Oh, there's a bank," he murmured. "If you can help me through the sand, you could set me down here. It'll lighten the boat."

Bromwell shrugged and lifted the long pole out of the algae, shoved it in the reeds to brake. The handcart and its daily firewood left the boat on a pair of planks, the way it came. [color=steelblue]"Keen to be rid of me, are ya?"[/color]

Shaken head. "Well, not you. But there's always someone yelling when I make the trip this late." 'Crack of dawn' meant something very different for a night-worker. "From up in that mansion, I'm sure the whole town can hear it. Iunno, she just sets me off. Built right across from the pier, too."

Bromwell laughed, adjusted his cap. [color=steelblue]"Oh, I know her! She's the very reason I bring the morning sundries. Right shrew she is. Well- she's alright once everyone's awake and in order. Pip pip."[/color] The forester mumbled something and set off with his cargo, and Bromwell did the same. 

There was a chance he'd miss the morning announcement- he sometimes did. He didn't mind. Getting up early like this gave him a chance to dodge the racket, and warm up his muscles while he was at it. Best of all, Sylveon couldn't spend too long telling him off- not if she didn't want to actually [i]pay[/i] someone to bring the Guild's food upriver, of course.

[color=steelblue][i]I wonder,[/i][/color] thought the Poliwrath, the yells of his superior already just about audible in the distance, [color=steelblue][i]if anything will happen today.[/i][/color]

There was a distant [i]klok[/i] of something ceramic hitting rock. It sounded like a 'yes'.