The Fat Catfish scratched its head with its long whiskers, failing to see what was amiss.
The Old Toad's frog eyes swiveled restlessly, an itch in his heart that he couldn't resist, his webbed feet tapping on the Fat Catfish's forehead.
"Let's go! Let's take a lap around!"
With the Old Toad on its back, the Fat Catfish flicked its tail, and the pair circled the small island, taking in the sights.
The sky was still brightening.
The whole island was shrouded in a mist, hazy and towering, with a steepness that loomed like a solitary hump.
Rather than an island, it was more like the tip of a mountain emerging from the water.
They circled several times.
The Old Toad scratched his butt and belly, slung the yellow skin bag over his shoulder, and sat down dejectedly.
He couldn't see anything.
There was treasure, but it was unreachable.
Visible, yet unattainable.
"Let's go down and have a look!"
The Old Toad, unwilling to give up, tugged at the whiskers.
