Overture Downs you wore corduroy pants to your middle school dance

The lands beyond the mire were gentle and green, as though they tried to make up for the harshness of their putrescent neighbor. Sriracha was pleased to find land so fertile and green, and immediately sought ought a water source. Mud still clung to every inch of him, and in the sun it stank to high heaven. It was time to cast off this mantle of filth and return himself to some semblance of cleanliness. 

A cold, clean stream wound its way around one hill and then another. Sriracha whooped, uncaring fo who might hear, and barreled into the shallow stream. Immedately he began to roll in its shallows, letting sand and small rocks scrape away the mud. He rolled and splashed, and the water running off of him was thick and brown with mud. Also it was smelly.

It is her turn to hide despite the last hiccough in their game. Mars argued he hadn't really been found and came out of hiding, but either way he'd forfeited his chance and the torch had been passed over. Where she wanted to hide, however, remained a mystery and while she left him to count to a billion, Twix tore off through further unknown terrain. Most of their games ended quickly with places they knew and so when they'd been released from their youthful home, they were left out in the wild to hide in places they'd never seen before. Never even could fathom!

For what she thinks to be a good distance from where she left him, she began to search over one hill and into the next. A stench, however, reaches her nose and causes a tight wrinkle. One hand lifts to her face to cover her pointed nose but, curious as ever (and, hey, she's found some good eats in the smelliest of trash), she begins her trek down one particularly high hill that leads down into a stream.

The splashing catches her attention and she sees a wolf, much bigger than the two children she'd met the day before, and tilts her head to try and figure out what he's doing. The closer she gets she begins to realize the smell is coming from him and so she shrinks down into the grass and inches her way closer to the bank. Still several yards away, and probably in a danger zone, she clears her throat in an uneasy attempt to draw attention to herself.

"Do you... need help?" she decides to say, swallowing a nervous lump. "I can help get the clumps out of those hard to reach places!" 

Perhaps, if she proves to be of some help, he will forego the chase.

The cold water against his skin came as a relief. The mud had begun to itch and irritate the his skin, and it was heavy and tugged on his fur. The water lifted away the grime and soothed his skin to an extent, but some was more stubborn. Anywhere the mud had dried it was less inclined to fall away, and the worst was on his tail, where the fur was long and matted with dirt. It would take a long time of soaking to rid himself of it, and even then he was resigned to the fact that he would carry dirt and the stench for days.

That was, until a voice piped up from somewhere along the bank. Sriracha splashes a bit as he searches for the source of the voice, then relaxes when he sees it's only a raccoon. At first he thought of his stomach, but her offer makes him reconsider. He grinned. Ah! Mapache, amiga, I would be grateful until the end of my days. And! here he winked you have my solemn word that I will not harm you. Scout's honor.

She startles the other wolf and shrinks back a step or two but he doesn't come upon her and offers, instead, reassuring words that he won't harm her. She almost misses his promise but she shakes her head and hops a few steps forward. She swallows a lump in her throat to hide her nervousness but it she isn't sure how much actually shown through her on her face.

"O-okay," she stammers and then closes the rest of the distance. "It.. it might get, y'know, personal. You promise?" she says, lifting her hand to grab a club in a safe place on the back of his knee. Nothing too important there other than the gentle pull of a few hairs, but if she were to really help him... well, she needed to know where to go.

The raccoon was a jumpy little thing, and perhaps if Sriracha's hunger was greater or his mood less placid, he'd have given chase merely at her aborted flight. However, his priority at the moment was to free himself of the mud and stink of the mire, and the raccoon would certainly expedite the process.

Mapache, I'm not gonna hurt you, he said, gentle. Then he gave a stuttering laugh and gestured to his face. We're probably related, you and I. And as long as you don't get too handsy with the family goods, I think we'll be fine. That interspecies thing isn't really my deal. He wasn't mocking her, though it could have seemed that way. He felt her loosen a clump of dirt on his leg and wondered when she would, quite literally, go for the gold.

She gives him a nervous chuckle when he gestures his face but she smiles through it, working on another clump to distract her. "I just mean... if there's... I guess you can do it yourself," she says though now it's more sort of an anxious babbling. She doesn't know where she's going with the conversation but she veers off, moving beneath him to the other side. 

Occasionally Twix glances from what she's doing to his head, unable to shake the habit that one wrong pull might be the end. It's crazy to think this was a good idea in the first place but now that she's committed? She releases a shaky breath, trying to ward off the thoughts as she steps back to dip her hands into the water. She returns to her work with her hands cupped of water, drenching his shoulder and into his armpit to pull off a particularly large clump of mud.

The laugh was good enough for him. Perhaps she would always be afraid of wolves, and with good reason. But Sriracha was a pragmatic man. He could see that she (at least, he thought it was a she) was doing a much better job cleaning him with her dextrous little fingers than he ever could. She was helping him, and in return he would very graciously not kill her. Fair trade.

When she begins fussing with a particularly annoying matted clump of fur, the relief is so sweet that Sriracha splashes onto his side, giving her better access. And, should she continue, his back leg would start to thump against the ground, splashing water everywhere in his canine glee.

The wolf doesn’t mind the pulling and, eventually plops over to his side so she can work at it. Part of her expected him to continue but she can’t complain too much. With the water soaking through, it begins to break away and fall apart and leave nothing but smears into his fur. It’ll be easier to walk and he can take a soak in the nearest lake for the rest to come off. Twix will perform her service and perhaps bide some time as she hid away from her brother.

When his foot begins to shake, she ducks her head and her hand thumps his chest. "Hey!"

Sriracha tipped his head back as far as he could manage without accidentally drowning himself, enjoying the cold water against his eyes and the raccoon's deft fingers in his fur. It also serves to help wash the worst of the mud away. Apparently she did not appreciate his external show of enjoyment, as the moment his leg started thumping, she smacked him. Sriracha laughed and stilled his leg, though it took conscious effort to do so. Lo siento, he apologized, craning his neck to give her a sheepish grin.

Twix doesn’t realize what she’s done right away but when she registers her actions, her eyes widen and she takes a step back. Sriracha barely reacts, however, and says something in an apologetic tone that overwrites the words she doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get up from where he’s laying and charge and softens his expression and stops shaking his legs, thus keeping the water from splashing on her anymore. She releases a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding and steps forward, carefully putting her hands back on him to take the last few clumps from his fur.

This time, she works quickly and removes the last of them with ease now that he’s a little more damp. “Okay, there,” she says and wipes off her hands before dipping them in the water, washing every last bit of mud from her own body.

Jumpy though she was, the raccoon did as promised. Though she seemed ready to flee after smacking him, he managed to talk her down from running off. He found her impressive, unlike most of her kind she was not so cowardly. Though afraid, she was still brave enough to approach and help him. Basically, she had balls.

At last she finishes, her deft little fingers releasing the last of the mud. Oh, I could kiss you, he sighed, rolling over carefully so that he might rinse off more. Mapache, if ever you need a favor, find me. I owe you one. The scent would still cling to him, but he felt like a new man now that he was free from the mud of the swamp. Adios! he cried, and bounded away as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so. To freedom!