Miriam skipped along the dusty streets, her sandals tapping rhythmically. Her eyes widened as she reached the marketplace, where her mother bartered for spices and fabric. "Mama, look! What's happening?" she exclaimed, pointing at the sky.

Miriam giggled as a frog landed on her shoulder, its bulging eyes blinking at her. "Hello, little friend! Where did you all come from?" she asked, trying to catch more as they leaped around her.

Miriam's father shook his head, "I've never seen anything like this! Frogs in the breadbasket and frogs in the stew!" he exclaimed, trying to shoo them away with a broom.

Miriam listened intently as her grandmother recounted the tales, "First, the river turned to blood, then these frogs. What will come next?" she wondered aloud, her eyes reflecting the flickering lamp light.

Miriam whispered to her brother, "It's like a storybook come to life, but I'm glad we have each other." He nodded, "And the frogs, they make it feel a bit magical, don't they?"

Miriam sat by the river, watching the sun set in vibrant hues. "I think I'll miss you, little frogs," she sighed, waving to the last of her amphibious friends as they hopped toward the water.