Fishblight Mire Shatter myself, I don't care

Mustang had honestly smelled worse. The sanctuary he’d been born in backed up to a ranch. It stunk of cow manure and, distantly, chemicals used to tan leather (though Stang had never known what in tarnation he was smellin’).

Didn’t mean he had’ta like it though.

His eyes lightly narrowed, toes spread to try and scoot his way across the muck to the next island, he lunged, skittered, and caught himself before he went tumblin’ right into the next bit of stankin’ water.

Stank’s worser’an a pig sty’n the heat.. He mumbled aloud to himself, staring at his feet. Mustang lifted his head to his surroundings, focusing on them to try and find a way out. Up until he caught a flash of color, squinting to bring into focus another caught in the same situation as he. The boy’s eyes brightened.

Howdy, stranger! Well butter his bottom and call him a biscuit, he never expected to find someone else out here!