Witch's Marsh I'll never forgive Orange if they've wiped the twins

For any Uaine Gorsedd wolf!

Despite the dank atmosphere, Pygmalion was beginning to take to the marsh. There was no doubt it had to do with the company here. They were all charming, interesting beings. . .and then there was Bhediya, a notch above all the rest. He was content to stay for now, even if it did mean more than a little mud here and there.

But he traveled the dry paths Ibis had mentioned, looking for small game to replenish the caches (and his stomach). Something had happened around this place—large prey were noticeably absent, and there was a gauntness to everyone that signified trouble. Had that trouble been of such a degree that things were so fractured?

Had he made a mistake in coming here?

Ah. . .frogs. The scent wafted over his muzzle, and he grimaced slightly; he didn't have much of a fondness for the taste of the amphibians. Nevertheless, he was hungry, and others had to eat, too. He prowled along the trail, ears cupped to pick up the tell-tale croaking ribbits that would lead him to his quarry.