Swamped Chapter 48 Page 22

“So. I suppose it doesn’t rain much here,” you muse. Less for the sake of hearing them respond as getting a sense of just how well they understand you – do they even know what rain is?

Indeed, they seem confused. They repeat “rain” to each other a few times, before looking back at you.

“It’s when water falls from the sky,” you say. “Not very common, I take it?”

They look at each other for a while, a bit confused. Then the one-armed woman pulls something out of her pouch.

A sketchbook.

She does a quick doodle of a cloud with droplets falling. You nod your head.

She sketches a large number of suns. Looks like about… forty? Fifty? Seems rain comes once in forty or fifty days. Not unheard of, but not something you expect. So it might not have come up in whatever context they learned Common in.

“Can you speak my language?” you finally ask.

“Not well,” the woman says. Her speech sounds strained. “Know words. Not… pron-unce. Not…” She pauses and waves her hand a little awkwardly. “Grandmother?”

“Grammar,” you say. “It’s a weird word, yeah. Well, if it’s difficult, there’s no need to strain yourself on my account. I was just wondering.”

It seems the art is a more practical way for her to communicate. At least you seem to have some way of talking now.

Maybe you can get some of your questions answered.

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Try drawing a representation of the rainspawn (with the rain) and see if they’ve any experience with or opinion of such creatures

Ask about her arm.

Actually, maybe you should ask grandmother about the rain beasts. She probably doesn’t have any superstitions about them, and might be knowledgeable about that sort of thing.