Firestone Hot Springs sister susie sitting on a thistle

Now that looked pretty suspicious, enough to make Jackson keep on his toes. He couldn't smell too much, the humidity of the springs hung too heavy to flutter in the breeze, but as far as he could sniff there was no one around for the moment. All the same though, he had keen eyesight and he knew his mind wasn't playing any tricks; that was some kind of something. And it wasn't moving too fast (not at all actually) as he kept on trucking closer.

Of course it was explained when he came to a short distance away and realized that goat was good and dead. And it wasn't such an awful realization, if it wasn't for that smell. The hot springs themselves worked his nose in all the wrong ways, not too bad that he couldn't adapt to it, but the sulfur mixed in the scent of rotten death struck his fur out in all directions.

He nearly scratched his head trying to work out what had happened. Didn't make sense that it had drowned itself, yet its head was dunked down into the bubbling pool while its body laid limp down the slope towards the water. Other than a few bird peckings, it was pretty held together, no large predator had come to tear the goat open and it had to be at least two days old. Sniffing at its hip, Jackson snorted not sure he could work up an appetite--something just didn't seem right.