Seaside Moors it will come back

val slung mud to his face in a flurry of movement. a soft squelch sounded as he slapped his cheeks with a loam-covered paw. when that did not yield an abatement from the stinging of his eyes, the boy sank into the mudpit and began to roll like a freshly cleaned grey pony.

he missed his sister’s eye roll, but when he lurched to his feet he was now suitably covered from head to toe. his eyes had stopped stinging at some point; as if forgetting the very incident that had gotten him into this mess, val took a long look at his sister.

a long, considering look —

and then he bolted towards her with mud flying.