Otatso Wetlands 40 nights to sit and listen to that midnight train to memphis

it was clear that more was wrong than just the mud; making his way through was tricky but manageable, but for her, it was downright impossible. she resisted his command, struggling further. he gave her a frown, shaking his head. "stop moving," he emphasized, voice firm. he began to wade towards her, looking closer at the root of the problem.

aditya began to dig at the mud, sending chunks flying, droplets of the stuff speckling his face and chest. hopefully, if he could excavate the limb enough, she could at least pull herself free with the other good legs. once he'd removed a significant amount--though, with the nature of a swamp, it had began to creep inward again--he looked at her, panting.

"try to move, now," he said, slightly breathless. "pull yourself forward with your front legs." if this, too, failed. . .his brain spun wildly as he tried to find a different solution. in all his years of living, this predicament somehow hadn't come up.