Twisted Slough i wish you'd die in the mire

for @Magpie de l'encrier

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The dark willows all around drew him in - the wet ground and dank scent in the air should have done the opposite - but there was something too familiar about the air here. It was hard to discern, slipping away all the while, even as he squeezed beneath the long, awkward branch-like roots that coiled in and out of the mire.

It was a miracle he hadn't gotten any of it in his sandy fur - thanks to his careful plodding across some of the more greener, mossier ground than that which was dark smudges of mud and fallen leaves. The only blessing was the way the cold winter's breeze had a hard time getting through it all. It was still terrible and fleeting, and as he traveled deeper into the dark, dim stretches, he wondered why he had dared to traverse it in the first place.

Some endless curiosity, maybe.