Blacktail Deer Plateau Husks and shells

They arrived at their destination: a veritable sinkhole. Peregrine stood on its edge, watching as Finley stepped into the thick, soupy mud. Her nose wrinkled and he had to laugh at her expression. He took a step forward, tentatively pressing his left paw into the goop. His own nose twitched when a deep stink rose up from the viscous liquid.

"Are you sure this isn't, like, a moose's latrine or something?" he quipped, although the scent was one of dirt and rotten vegetation, not feces. His right foot joined the left and his weight caused him to sink slowly into the mess. "I'm going to get rid of the fleas but smell like asshole. I'm not sure I've made the right decision here."

Nonetheless, he pulled up one mud-caked foot with an accompanying squelching noise and stepped deeper into the mud puddle. When he felt situated, he slowly sank onto his belly, which instinctively arched away from the cool sludge. When it finally made contact, he buckled his legs entirely and was soon bobbing in the brown stew. To maximize its effectiveness, he rolled side to side, making sure to slather every inch of his body.

"Die, mother fuckers," he mumbled right before holding his breath and smashing his face forward into the muck. Almost instantly, he flung it back upward and, with a freakish mud mask covering everything but his eyes, he shouted a loud, "Hellooo!" at Finley, sending bits of goo flying from his nostrils and mouth.