Witch's Marsh mayday, mayday, mayday

coelho sloshed around in the pit of algae and mud, grinning widely as pyro was struck down by one of her waves. he thrashed about - okay, a bit dramatic, she thought -- but as he sprung back she for a brief second felt guilty -- because, what exactly was in his mouth?

her ears were pressed forward apprehensively as she paddled towards him, but he was so busy causing a mudding ruckus that her guilt abated and she grinned, bounding through the thick slush as quick as she could. at this point she was well splattered, and looked more wretch than wolf as she pulled herself out of the bank. mud sloughed off of her form in thick heaps, and her pelt was thoroughly coated in a dark brown rime. "man, i don't even think frogs could live in that." she gave a heavy shake of her fur and mud went flying just about every which way, a radius of blackened rain coming down around her: "now we need to find a stream, or something."

***

after a while of ruckus raising, the pair bent to task. there was a fair bit of fun that trip, but coelho and pyro both took their jobs seriously -- and as they made for home, were relieved that soon they would rest their tired paws, sleep, and catch up with the rest of the pack.