Cricket Creek Bog Clicky Crickets

He had needed to think-- he hadn't needed to end up ass-deep in bog and hopelessly lost.

Nathaniel was cursing, picking his way through the irritatingly noisy, slimy, awful place. The rugged wolf wasn't often bothered by things such as the weather or the environment, but he got moody when he was tired. And he was very tired. He didn't even touch the topic of the cold in his own mind, lest he make himself too miserable to move.
Damn bog. He kicked a rock. Damn winter. Another rock went flying. Damn Burke. Nat growled the words under his breath, punctuating each pause by kicking another rock as he walked.