Otatso Wetlands give me segregation

Already well beyond doubting the intentions of her unnamed company, the ironsalt victress fully anticipated their complete and instantaneous symbiosis—so high was her expectation of him—leaving little room for hesitation or error in her presence. Any waffling, likewise any questioning, would have been met with hateful reproach, if not extreme prejudice.

It was, perhaps, fortuitous that they were like-minded, giving Paladin no reason to dismiss him in any regard. Quite the contrary: she was privately impressed by him. The connection was tenuous at best, and almost laughably subject to change, but her tolerance and sheer willingness to share this lot was testament enough to how she viewed him. Typically, in her not-so-humble opinion, males were useless ballsacks, and they would all be in that category—as far as she was concerned—until individually proving otherwise.

So far, so good, for this one.

Her cautionary gaze followed the strapping wolf to his position. Though he sunk slightly too, the ground below had firmed up enough to support them both. Focusing now, she felt the pressure from his staunch push and jerked backwards in tandem to match his leverage.

The wolves rocked back and forth with their efforts, until there was the sound of muddy suction being released, rolling the body over unceremoniously. Paladin’s grip severed, and she fell backwards into the sloshing trench, though recovered swiftly into a stand before giving her pelt a hard shake, flinging silt wildly. Now, the hind legs of the carcass were sticking up awkwardly from the muck, and it became clear that the buck had suffered a broken leg.

Let’s get the back of ‘im and drag it that way, she directed, motioning in a roundabout way to drier mud. She had to shake her head again, to get a bit of muck out of her mouth. We’ll have to get around that swampy patch, there, or we’ll drown it completely.

Feel free to PP them progressing in your next post, if you're okay with the tiny liberties I already took