Witch's Marsh mayday, mayday, mayday

"blegh," coelho groaned, shifting a paw up from the sucking murk that gurgled around her frame. a clod of sodden earth sloughed off from her raised paw and hit the bog with a loud slap. she eyed the misty tree-line in the distance, wishing she was somewhere on hard ground and not wading through a dense tangle of wetwood and marsh.

@Pyro might have been fairing better, but coelho was fairing terribly; the deep mud was resistant to her thin limbs, and they had been traveling long enough that the road-to seemed rather joyless and interminable. sinking up to her neck in mud coelho gave another melodramatic groan, and then a rather furtive look seemed to come over her as she glanced to see what pyro was doing.