There was something of a splatting thud or a thudding splat as the frog's body jumped and hit something not far from the door. Fred wasn't used to this body, and trying to get out of the door's way was not something she'd done in it before. There were a few jumps, and finally Fred found a decent purchase rather high in a corner.
The frog's croak was off, and Fred hated it. Well, she didn't hate it because it was actually kind of cool, yet she didn't like that it wasn't what it should be. She needed her words. She tried, tried to make sure they understood the croak was her, friendly and maybe a hint scared.
"It's me Fred" just didn't translate well in croaking.
She stared down at the hunters, hoping that they wouldn't shoot her. It was a little disconcerting that her concern was very valid.