Cricket Creek Bog funkytown

She isn’t terribly threatened by his presence as she takes her thirst and then resettles her gaze upon him. One brow quirks to see what may come of this and she decides quickly to introduce herself. The brute takes a few steps forward in the mud, trying to find harder patches of ground to stand on, to return the gesture. “Coq,” he tells her and looks down at his feet, frowning at the mud caking between his toes. “I don’t normally do this but what do you say we get outta here?” he says with a smirk of his muzzle, picking one soaked paw to watch a clump of mud fall back to the ground.