Otatso Wetlands give me segregation

At the very instant he had started to push, the other began to tug. Her pull was distinct, forceful, and for some reason, that excited him. It wasn’t quite the same thrill as wearing down and killing a living target, but it did require a level of exertion he hadn’t quite anticipated. Only twice did he falter in his effort, for when a bit of progress was made, he would reaffirm his stance so as not to lose the leverage gained. Jethro was fully committed to this now, covered in filth as he was. 

Might as well have bathed in the stuff. But the rush granted when at last the prize was freed from the muck that’d been encasing it was goddamn worth it. He could not contain a momentary grin, with a sidelong glance at the other as she regained her footing. It was rare to work with anyone, even rarer still that he found a sense of enjoyment or thrill in it, but that didn’t mean he’d let her out of his sight completely. 

An assessment of the dead buck revealed the likely cause of why the creature hadn’t been able to escape death; a mangled limb. Assholes, always prancing about conceitedly. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. 

The white one was quick to offer direction again, and Jethro turned his gaze long enough to observe where she’d gestured and commit the path to memory. He did not want to screw this up, not when they were so damned close. A further assessment revealed a small copse of land that awaited just beyond a giant tree, where the ground seemed far firmer. That was their destination then.

“Aight,” he agreed tersely, plodding through the mud to take up a new position as directed. Situating his grasp just below the hock, Jet waited until the woman had chosen her position and hold before firmly planting his limbs in the ground and jerking back at the angle they’d need to get avoid the area he’d previously mapped out. It wasn’t very often he felt he had anything to prove to anyone, but with this one, he felt compelled to put forth his very best effort. 

Her stoic, decisive approach to this was remarkable, to say the least. Although he did not trust her intentions completely, her instincts, and her ability, were absolute. It drove him to leave a good impression, fostering the quiet hope of securing a potential alliance with an apparently like-minded individual that would extend beyond just this one day. He was scarcely aware of the low growls and huffs he made with each tug, pausing only long enough to suck in another breath or to make sure they were on course before he would wrench back again and again. Now that the buck had been freed of the initial entrapment, between the two of them, they were able to tug and guide the corpse back little by little, working around the worst of the muck in pursuit of drier ground. They were more than halfway there.

all good! Likewise, lmk if there's anything here that doesn't jive w/you