Felltree Marsh Don't Be a Stick in The Mud!

He waded along. Thankfully the ground was mostly sandy here, though the disgusting brown water didn't make it seem so. He made it to the raised portion as she finished asking her question. The sand was soggy, but not under water. He laid down immediately, happy to have his weight off of his paws for a minute. 

"That's a good question. Y'know, when I was around yer age, my mother told me about a pack of wolves that lived in a swamp, like this one. Said they were covered in sores, missing fur, had skin hangin' off 'em. Like a walkin' carcass." 

He never believed the story, as he hadn't seen anything like that, nor would he believe that anything could be alive in that condition. He figured the real reason was because swamps were dangerous, and his mother didn't want him and his brother getting eaten by an alligator. 

After he spoke, he began chewing at his front paw, feeling the hard thorn with his tongue. He gripped it with his incisors and tugged it free. The relief was instant, and it didn't bleed much.