Forget Your High Society

He hadn't known that mud could be so... sucky. Like literally. There was something about it's composition that made it super hard for him to pull himself out of the mire. The more he'd struggled, the more it'd wanted to pull him deeper into the muck and make him a part of itself. He'd freed himself eventually, taking it slow until he'd leveraged himself enough to pull himself out of the clingy depths. Escape was sweet. The knowledge of hindsight was better. He'd not be so quickly to underestimate a jump next time. 

Kero lay heaving, trying to catch his breath after the exertion. His lungs collapsed and expanded, rising and falling as he steadied his breathing and regained the energy it'd taken to expel himself from the muck. He almost didn't notice how covered he was chocolate-y mud, except with the sun high above it was starting to dry upon his fur. The cake-y feeling was uncomfortable at best. He'd need to find someplace to clean himself, but he was thinking water elsewhere. He did not wish to risk becoming stuck again. Once in one day was more than enough. 

As he lay dying (fine, recovering), he seemed to catch the attention of another wolf. Kero's head lifted, eyes and ears turning towards the newcomer. Was he alright? "Yeah. Will be," he said, flicking his tail behind him. He pulled his feet underneath himself and attempted to stand. Kerosene was met with success and he mentally patted himself on the back. One step at a time. Hell yeah. "You don't happen to know about a freshwater source around these parts that won't try to eat me, do you?" he asked. "I promise you, mud isn't my natural color."