Black Morass I got Fire in My Soul
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All Welcome 
He had crested the mountains, still faithfully carrying his Elk Antler, which his megalomania had decided was actually the bones of a dragon, gifted to him by Fenrir himself for his faithfulness. The poor addled wolf could not POSSIBLY have seen a giant deer. 
however the landscape he found himself in now was Mystical and terrifying. The stink of methane clung close to the ground. Thick, sucking mud clung to his pelt, threatening to drown him. There was no light here, and the rumble of bullfrogs echoed like the grunts of strange beasts. Enormous snapping turtles peered at him from murky pools. 
For a moment he was afraid, and feeling slightly lost. But Fenrir had never abandoned him, so he steeled himself and pushed on.
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Helen bolted through the forest, tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. Her ears flapped wildly in the wind. Instead of the usual crunching of the icy snow, or the rustling of leaves beneath her paws, this time it was a squelchy sound that grew louder the further she ventured. Her agile legs were starting to ache as the perpetual stickiness of the ground seemed to pull her down. Speeding towards any direction on this terrain was a risk - that was what two years of experience had taught her. The mudflats in Alaska were giant trap holes, waiting sinisterly to engulf any unsuspecting victim.

By now, the tips of her pale coat was dripping with mud. Panting heavily, she finally decided that this was enough racing for a day. One paw after another, she cautiously padded through the mushy grounds, as the ambience of the woods finally started to sink into her. It felt empty here, except for the eerie croaks of frogs. Empty. Empty. So empty, that it was spooky. The towering, thick trees looked nothing like the ones back in the coast, but were extremely intimidating. Helen felt regret creeping up onto her. Perhaps she should have been a little more careful to where she was mindlessly dashing into. 

It wasn't night, but it was dark. The umbrellas that surrounded her blocked every ray of warm, golden sunshine from creeping into this lonely place, with its lush canopy. For now, she needed to look for a place to call her temporary home. But at the same time, she fervently hoped that she would not sink into the ravenous pits below her before she found shelter.

Not long after careful treading through the mud, Helen stopped. Her ears twitched as other squishing noises resounded from a distance. A mudskipper? That was too loud and too frequent to belong to one. Of all the places she expected to find company, Helen spotted the silhouette making its way in her direction. Intrigued, she peered inquisitively from behind a solid stump of wood, squinting at the figure as it drew nearer and nearer. While her last encounter with the brute back at the sound was everything but pleasant, she tried to mind her own business this time. However, she knew eventually he might find her. So, Helen decided to approach him. With her tail curling into an awkward position, she greeted: "Uh, hello."
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A voice in the darkness alerted him. Ah, it made sense now! He was meant to experience the darkness, meant to experience loss and fear, in order to better understand how he could save the wolves here! 
He slogged his way towards her, gilded pelt dulled to a yellow brown in the darkness. 
"Hello, maiden. Are you lost?" He asked gently, balancing precariously on a thick tree root, the elk antler at his paws.
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His coat was so drenched in clumpy mud that Helen could barely make out the golden bristles under it. Upon hearing her greetings, the he-wolf dragged himself up to her, stopping at a rather thick snake-like tree root. "Hello, maiden. Are you lost?" His voice exuded calmness and kindness. Helen wasn't particularly lost or anything. Maybe she was but she did not need any assistance, for she wasn't looking for anywhere. She simply enjoyed an interesting adventure, as she explored different terrains and forests.

"Uhm, no, but thanks..." she began, before her honey eyes caught sight of the thick stick protruding from in-between his claws. "What's that in your paws?" Helen had always seen that familiar feature grow on elks, but as far as she could recall it never did grow on wolves.