Rain falls like pearls on moss and stone, cooling the forest — except for one place, where steam rises between two glistening bodies. Newt Marcel, quiet wanderer of puddles, moves with shy grace; Salamander Sára, marked by golden fire, carries the storm in her skin. When their eyes meet, thunder forgets its cue.

He moves like water, she burns like lightning, and together they invent a rhythm that belongs to neither element — a dance too wet to smolder, too hot to end. Each drop becomes applause; each breath, a spark reborn.

A steamy fable of contrast and connection — where rain feeds the flame, and desire proves it can glow even underwater.

By the quiet stream, where reeds whisper prayers to the moon, Frog Želmíra waits — green, graceful, and trembling with curiosity. From the shadows glides Snake Hubert, smooth as midnight and twice as dangerous. They should be enemies — water and scale, leap and slither — yet the night has other plans.

A single look, a coiled rhythm, and the air thickens with a promise older than fear. He circles, she sings, and the stream carries their secret like a silver ribbon downstream. When dawn comes, only the ripples remember.

A haunting tale of danger, desire, and destiny — where instincts betray, hearts dare, and the water keeps what it cannot wash away.

At the edge of the pond, where moonlight shivers on the lily pads, Frog Žofka croaks her heart out — half song, half sigh, all soul. Crab Richard listens from the shallows, sideways as always, clacking his claws in rhythm he doesn’t quite understand but desperately wants to.

She sings, he snaps, the night responds. Soon the duet turns into a dance — water splashes, reeds sway, and stars applaud from above. For one wild moment, the pond becomes an opera house, and two misfits find harmony in pure, slippery passion.

A watery serenade of rhythm, wit, and wonder — where love leaps, sidesteps, and always lands back in the mud.