Frogspawn Swamp thousands of years, an eternity, without changing

On today's whim, and feeling whole enough when it occurred to him, Antares set out to stretch his legs. First it carried him further down the coastline away from his Stavanger haunting grounds, meandering through the old charred woods, then across an expanse of a plateau to an eventual beyond as hours ticked away behind him. There, momentarily, the windswept Ostrega weighed his options. Not often pressing his miles in this direction, but feeling aimless, he decided to carry on. As felt right, and considering the summertime, he found he made the most miles beneath the satisfying cover of night, so ultimately--all time well wasted.

Somewhere along the way (and not ready to return to the Bay area yet) he rested up, loitered, and chose his path on the first thought that sparked anything at all in him. He was testing the feeling, more and more, letting some wind soar beneath his hesitant, regrowing wings, even if his miles were yet few on the great, grand scheme.

When a humid afternoon began to creep in, he followed a river that splintered and went flourishing into an entire swamp. He definitely took that route, and took the opportunity to wade whenever he could as his paths looped around, deep into the recesses of the mirelands. 

Antares' scouting eventually passed on through lowest, dampest area of the swamp; he surfaced somewhere closer to its southern reaches, his furs slaked merrily and stomach full of bullfrog. He supposed he may as well begin to head towards more solid ground, and carry on to see what he could find next. But, not in any hurry and not really knowing where he was going, his gait was a slinky walk with his nose carried low, like he prowled for some purpose on the edge of the swamp.

mostly in the interest of @Charles if he'd be up this way ^^