Cricket Creek Bog a gentle breeze or lightning in a storm

An agile wolf greeted her, one that Weejay noticed with some dismay was colored not-unlike her mother. Deceased mother, came an ugly voice in the back of her head, which Weejay then promptly pushed away. The stranger first remarked on the flower, drawing Weejay's gaze from her to the petals, and then back again. "Yeah! It's a kind of flower my friend showed me a while ago. I was looking for him to show him I found another..." Her tone had started off cheery, but took on a rather sad edge to it, for her friend had disappeared and she had yet to see him.

As the russet female addressed the ambience around them Weejay looked up, as if noticing it for the first time. Now that she really looked around her, it did look like a rather spooky place; moss and lichen grew in spades, and overall a sense of dull haplessness seemed to creep out from the dark waters and thick reeds. She frowned, liking the swamps' suddenly accumulated characteristics very little. "It is spooky. How come?"