A vehicle of driftwood, algae and transparent jelly stalks through the forest. Inside it sits one of the fishfolk, no doubt an explorer.
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Fishfolk tell stories about us: We watch them as they trespass, hunt them down, but sometimes, inexplicably, also rescue them from drywning.
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They call us hyoo-mans, a name derived from the wheezing noises we produce.
"A hyooman rescued you? What's next, it fertilized your eggs?"