Zog went out of his way to find a block of wood. He carved it into an oval, hollowed out the center, leaving a long slit, then made a small mallet from a wooden stick. With great piety, he began to tap.
"DONG— DONG— DONG—"
A sound meant to clear the mind and quiet desires echoed on the third floor of the workshop.
"What are you doing, performing some kind of ritual?" Furin couldn't help but ask.
"How did you know?" Zog replied, still tapping his wooden fish. "I am performing a ritual. No bugs, no bugs…"
"What does 'bug' mean?"
"An error in the Dragon Language," Zog blurted out.
"Who are you trying to fool? You think I don't know the Dragon Language?" Furin stared intently at Zog, trying to find a flaw in his story.
"Ah, ah, right. In the Red Dragon Language. Haha."
"Do you often attribute your strange words to the Dragon Language when you're with other people?"
