Otatso Wetlands give me segregation

With each step backward, each tug, the ground became firmer, and the amount of effort needed to continue moving the muddied carcass decreased. When at last the two had reached a point where their limbs no longer immediately sank into the stuff, his companion seemed to decide that was far enough. Relinquishing his hold as well, Jet took that moment to catch his breath and to examine the terrain he’d found himself on. They’d come across another plot of dry ground, similar to the one he’d been resting on earlier. Perhaps a tad larger as well, so that meant he had options, which he liked. Options were always damned nice to have. 

The white one shook herself off, slinging droplets and granules of mud and dirt in all directions, but it didn’t do much to clear her fur of the stuff. As it were, Jethro opted not to even bother with that much. If he was going to live here, he may as well get accustomed to being covered in the shit. 

There was a wave of her tail and a gleam in the woman’s eye tas she regarded him briefly, issuing an indirect thanks. An invigorating sense of satisfaction worked its way through Jet at that, especially as he glanced back over the path they’d just covered. There was an undeniable truth to those words. He got the sense that this one did not give out praise lightly, which made it all the better, though he did not display the emotion outwardly except with a slight nod and the barest hint of a smirk in return. ”Good find. Appreciate you lettin’ me in on it.” Gratitude and acknowledgment were required here, he believed. Once in a while, working with others paid off, and in this case, it’d worked out wonderfully. This prize had the potential to feed them for a couple of days, he thought, at the very minimum. 

But now was not the time for deliberation. The other did not hesitate to proceed forth and begin her feast, choosing to settle at the beast’s belly, tearing in without mercy, which Jethro was inclined to let her have. Instead, he opted to settle opposite of the other, tearing off strips of the buck’s flesh from along the flank and hip. It was a damned shame that the first bit was covered in a layer of gritty filth, but he wasn’t about to complain. Food was food, and he’d sure as hell been forced to eat worse in the name of survival. Loners had to be opportunistic.