Witch's Marsh You are paying for that snake to be dry-cleaned

It was always exciting to explore a new area, finding new secrets to cherish and spread. Sneheks was a lithe one, wriggling through unfamiliar landscapes with chittering, breathy laughter. She was not sure she had ever encountered a bog before, at least not as mushy as this one.

Heks was leaping through the slop and making a grand mess of herself when her eyes caught the apparation of a stranger in the near distance, struggling to avoid the goop she found so interesting. Already quite short, when she crouched in the pool of watery mess, her body was nearly enveloped. Her head was resting above the water level like a crocodile's, her eyes unblinking as she scurried her way toward him, her paws scratching through the silt beneath her.

"Blech!" came her voice suddenly, a quick and bark-like sound from her place in the bog.

She had stopped moving, her narrowed eyes peeking at him from the marsh like tiny crescent moons; she hoped he had heard her, a strange witch born from the bog. Boo!