Witch's Marsh canzoni preferite

Not to mention the snow, Naiel. Can’t forget how great that makes the sludge.
Kratos fares better than his former comrade—the sludge is nothing, reminds him of the Pit in ways. Enough rain would flood the place, and they’d be brawling, shitting and sleeping in the mud for days after.  
He’s here more or less to look for those damn herbs that Nyra showed him—last he saw em they’d been in the Lair, but he knew they’d be here too, after she’d patched him up that fateful day after the cougar.
Minding his own business, but the loud echo of the temper tantrum is hard to miss. Kratos is more-or-less bored of his current task and veers over. A swagger in his step, lazy in the stride as he sinks his paws into the muck without care—another trait he picked up from dear dad.
You lookin’ for somethin’ that doesn’t fight back? Amusement glimmers in champagne eyes as the beast halts, adding insult to injury with a purposeful sway to splash further muck in the kid’s direction.