The flying horses soared above Uncle Colin's village.
They whispered to the frog: "It is full of people now. But once, it was empty. Only a house or two stood here. Look—there is Uncle White's house, and beside it, the farm where his wolves once lived."
Sayle frowned: "What do you mean? I don't understand your language."
The frog replied in a deep voice: "These are memories, boy. They have become monsters now."
Vizela's eyes widened: "Who do you mean?"
Frog: "Your uncle, and his wolves—they have turned into monsters."
Sayle: "Where are they?"
Flying Horses: "We do not know. Perhaps they are gone… perhaps they are dead."
Sayle and Vizela cried out together: "Uncle, where are you? And where is our mother?"
Sayle pointed down: "But the village is full of people. Maybe my uncle is hiding among them."
Frog: "That is a long story. You were too young then. You will understand on the way, when we reach your true village."
The horses interrupted: "Frog, do you see that carriage standing beside Uncle Colin's house?"
Frog: "Yes. That is the carriage that once carried you here, Sayle."
Sayle gasped: "You mean I rode in it?"
Frog: "Yes—and your mother was with you."
Sayle: "Please, let me down. I want to ride it again!"
The flying horses answered gravely: "But a carriage without the wolves that once pulled it… is like food without salt."
The frog lowered his voice: "Horses, take it easy. They are still young. Come now—descend into the carriage. But beware… do not let the monsters see you."