Fishblight Mire feels like day two of an endless war

The mire stretched on and on, leaving little room for the imagination to fabricate what could be beyond such a dismal place. Still, the thief did not wonder how he would escape the drab terrain. His stilt limbs carried him through the wastes quickly enough that Tadec remained unperturbed by his surroundings. It was quiet in the mire, and it seemed a perfect place to steer clear from the wolf-kind. Even the murky land had provided a catch of muddied fish for the coywolf. It was clutched in his slender muzzle, still drizzling into the muddied earth. The prowler had intended to feast on it once he had arrived on the other side of the terrain. Overhead, a thick-winged crow bobbed its head and watched Tadec trek through its domain. The moonlighter paid it no mind. He was unaware that he traipsed through the mire with the company of a large stranger.