Otatso Wetlands tragic eyes I can't recognize myself behind

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

Those weren’t his footsteps. 

Tahoe’s ears stood tall atop his head as he listened closely.

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

What was it? Friend, or foe?

On the chance it was an ungulate of sorts, the odds would be immensely in his favor. His stomach, dripping with mud, rumbled at the thought. He stopped for a moment, cautiously peering around the bog in hopes of catching a glimpse at the creature. The only thing he saw was his own breath, which billowed into the frigid afternoon air.