Cricket Creek Bog milton gets dirty

This is a post for Evening! 

Milton had never seen a swamp. He was very dirty from walking through the nasty wetness. He did not like how it stuck to his fur. He was also scared of the noises that the swamp made. He had not heard the sounds before. He was from a desert! He was not used to the swamp and the gross things that were in the swamp. It was a good thing he was brown because the swamp made him more brown. It made him bigger because it stuck to him and he looked like a swamp creature.
 
Milton heard a frog and he jumped and fell in the swamp water. He smelled it and it smelled so bad. He needed to take a bath but he did not like the water! He thought he could be a swamp creature forever because the water was just too scary to use. It was too soon after he had almost drowned. The pretty white wolf might like him more if he was a swamp creature. She had been not nice to him and he wanted her to like him. He wondered where she was and he rolled in the swamp mud some more.

Evening was out and about in the dusk and she had absolutely no idea what had compelled her to go crawling around in a swamp. She could have chosen anywhere, but she’d chosen here. For some gods-awful reason. Sighing, she resigned herself to squelching through the mud and thought maybe she’d get lucky and find a waterfowl in this gross place. Always, she was driven by food more than anything else. Well. That and the sun. She hated the sun and the sun hated her and that was why she only came out at night. The problem with that was that her vision already sucked from her albinism. She was extremely near-sighted. And being out at nighttime meant there wasn’t any light to see by anyways.

So when she heard the sound of a large creature splashing in the mud up ahead, she stopped instantly and crouched down where she was, not caring that her belly fur was getting soaked. What was it? She squinted and tried to see in the gloom, but all she got was a fuzzy image of a big… something… rolling around. What or who would roll around in this gross swamp mud? Were they dangerous? She continued to crouch in her hiding spot, preying that her gleaming white fur wouldn’t give her away (it probably would).