Fishblight Mire Shatter myself, I don't care

OOC: Open to anyone! Malila has stepped out to do some exploring!

After much debating, Malila had decided to take matters into her own paws. It was nothing against Rivenwood or the wolves that dwelled there, but she simply couldn't stay cooped up in that valley any longer! She personally believed she was having a rough go of it and reasoned that a much needed escape might do her some good. Her choice to leave the relative safety of her home had not come easy. She didn't exactly burst out of the gates, into the unknown with unbridled enthusiasm. A sheltered existence was all the young wolf knew. Crossing the threshold was a little un-nerving. 

Her departure was not meant to be a long term one. Malila considered this occasion just a lengthy outing, typical of most teenagers when they were going through a tough time. She would return once her head had cleared. She headed south, for many, many miles. Crossing through different territories and varied habitats. She was by no means a survivalist, but she had sense enough to watch out for the slightest hint of a packs border. Which thankfully, she found none of. What she did find though, was that somewhere along the road, god knows how far back, was that she must have taken a wrong turn.

Now she found herself swallowed in the thick of the most disgusting swamp like land. Never, had her paws touched such icky, slimy ground! It was wet, hot and humid. The dampness in the air weighed her fur down uncomfortably, where it would be sure to tangle in time. And the smell! It was like rotting flesh, or spoiled eggs. It burned her throat and eyes. Fighting back bile rising in her throat, she turned in a slow circle, growing desperate to get the hell outta here.

Mustang had honestly smelled worse. The sanctuary he’d been born in backed up to a ranch. It stunk of cow manure and, distantly, chemicals used to tan leather (though Stang had never known what in tarnation he was smellin’).

Didn’t mean he had’ta like it though.

His eyes lightly narrowed, toes spread to try and scoot his way across the muck to the next island, he lunged, skittered, and caught himself before he went tumblin’ right into the next bit of stankin’ water.

Stank’s worser’an a pig sty’n the heat.. He mumbled aloud to himself, staring at his feet. Mustang lifted his head to his surroundings, focusing on them to try and find a way out. Up until he caught a flash of color, squinting to bring into focus another caught in the same situation as he. The boy’s eyes brightened.

Howdy, stranger! Well butter his bottom and call him a biscuit, he never expected to find someone else out here!

She tried to force down the sense of rising anxiety in her chest. Tried to slow the increasing beat of her heart. No matter which way she looked, she just couldn't get her bearings. It all seemed the same in every which direction. Like a nervous doe, she backed up uncertainly. 

Her nose, so accustomed to the rich, soothing scent of herbs and flowers, tickled and burned. So much so that the stench of rotting flesh finally prompted a mighty sneeze out of her. She staggered slightly with the force, golden blonde limbs buckling as she sought purchase against the muck. 

The mud and water may have offered a softer landing, but now she was stuck a few inches deep in the too warm, gritty earth. Fate would have it that in her moment of embarrassment, a chipper voice called to her. A delicately shaped head snapped up perhaps a little too quickly, soft eyes of citrine and sapphire weary. The sight of another, lone male wolf made her think back of the instance with the trespasser at Rivenwood. But...that was then, and on claimed grounds. Despite the memory, Malila would never be the type to judge quickly, if at all. While looking shy and more than a little lost, she finally spoke up in a voice that was as delicate as her looks. "H-hi... Hey uhm, you...wouldn't happen to know a way outta here, would ya?"

She was a little thing, small enough that she’d have to run around in a shower to get wet. Mustang picked his way closer to hear her more clearly, still keepin’ respectable space between them. Like his mama always said, gotta save room for the good lord. He flashed a sheepish grin at the posed question, tipping his ears back in abashed embarrassment that he truly didn’t know how to get out.

Can’t...quite say I do, miss. I came’n here to escape the heat, but it seems I traded the devil for the witch in this situation. He leaned on the very edges of his toes, peering at the young woman in the mud and muck.

I hate to ask’n this of ya ma’am, but uh...you alright? Can ya..get out?

He, in contrast to her diminutive stature, was absolutely huge. Intimidatingly so. Fortunately for her, he seemed like a gentle giant. His thick, almost floofy coat and coloration reminded her of her own, though dirtied by the brown-green muck. The white streaked between his eyes, with their fractured color of watery tones, also had her staring, struck by his overall uniqueness.

His reply made her ears fall slightly in disappointment. "T-that's okay. I kinda...just wanted to get some fresh air. Stretch my legs. But...I really must've taken a wrong turn..." She dipped her head low, not in fear, but in silly awkwardness. At least she was no longer alone. That was one plus right there. 

His manners were not lost on her, with the concerned question asked of her. "I um...I dunno. The mud is pretty thick...it nearly up to my elbows. But I can try..." Grunting in what might have normally been a cute, amusing way if not for her situation, Malila mustered up her strength, pulling up her left foreleg. Slowly, painfully so. The sludge clung on stubbornly with a wet suctioning squelch. After what had been a struggle of at least three minutes, her paw came flying free, along with several hefty chunks of gloop. A thin but sturdy branch of fallen tree limb caught her eye. She reached out for it with her freed paw, digits grasping, seeking.

Mustang gave a little nervous whistle, pacing in place a bit as he watched the smaller canid struggle against the mud, wanting desperately to reach out and pick her up out of it, but knowing he hadn’t exactly been given permission, and his strength was an enigma even to him. So, he stood there, rocking back and forth, watching, barely keeping in a whimpery whine.

He watched her eyes trail to the stick, and the golden boy moved accordingly, stretching his body out to snag it between his teeth and drag it closer for the young woman he was helping to grab hold, watching for the moment she did. He gave the branch a little tug, and eyed her questioningly, waiting for the permission to tug her out.

If he got it, he’d start immediately.

Her outstretched paw, caked in a layer of dark murk that hid the true butter cream of her fur, wrapped around the branch that he had moved closer towards her. But only her blunt nails scraped and dug in against the rough bark, while she stretched further, trying to hook her wrist around it. Malila's further efforts to free herself were useless.

As anyone may guess just by looking at her, she didn't pack much in the way of muscle. She wasn't made for strength or for fighting. Again, she thought back to that day in Rivenwood, not so long ago. Of how she'd been afraid. Of feeling so hopelessly useless. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. When she got out of her predicament and this hellish place, then, would she even want to go back? 

Soft, upturned eyes flicked to the gentlemanly male. He couldn't be far from her own age. Surely, he knew more than she did, of looking after himself. Reaching her muzzle out tentatively to the stick, she whispered a whine, nodding wordlessly.

Mustang waited, barely even breathing as she reached out with her muzzle, and gave him a wordless nod. His face turned steely with determination, as the wolfdog glanced at the land behind him, trying to determine how far he could pull before he was in the same situation the girl found herself in. 

He took a deep breath, nodded back, stepped back until the tension on the branch made it taunt, and started pulling, as hard as he could. He screwed his eyes shut in effort, tightening his jaw so he could keep his grip and not send her back into the murky depths of the mud.

Having given the go ahead, now the stranger was pulling on the branch with all his might. Malila took one struggling inch forward, so she could fully hook her leg over the branch. She'd need to hold on somehow. For extra measure, after forgetting that she should have done it in the first place, she clasped her jaws around it.

Slowly but surely, she came free, one leg at a time. The young girl was fairly lightweight, which made a feat such as this for a big fellow for himself effortless, most likely. Stubbornly, the muck released her, but not without leaving it's mark in the form of smelly stains on the lower half of her body. Once fully freed, it came so abruptly that she was sent lurching forward. Scrabbling, the first thing on her mind was to find dry, solid ground again. She brushed by him, wobbly legged but hopefully not careening into him. "T-thank you so much for that. I um...I never had that happen to me before." She muttered, catching her breath.

The muck released her, and Mustang went stumbling back, barely avoiding his own fall into the quagmire. As it was, he wobbled, wavered, then plopped into his haunches with a sharp, wheezy noise.

Hooowee, I don’t think I ever’ve done that before either! He replied, tail starting up a little wag from side to side, a goofball grin splitting his features.

’m Mustang, by the way, Mustang Flynn! My ma used’ta call me ‘Stang, but’cha don’t gotta if ya don’t wanna.

She narrowly missed him, while he scarcely managed to avoid taking a tumble of his own. Catching her breath, but still very much far from presentable, she turned around. "I...guess there's a first time for everything." She managed sheepishly.

Normally, his upbeat, goofball demeanor would have been infectious. But Malilia was hardly feeling like her unusual self these days, making it difficult to raise her own spirits. He introduced himself, giving her a name to his unique face. "Nice meeting you, Mustang. My name is Malila..." Her tail gave the slightest of wags. She briefly peered off in the direction of where she assumed Rivenwood would await. "If you don't mind, I've about had enough of this smelly place. I just...dunno which way is out..." 

Mustang, still as much a greenhorn as he had been the year previous at wildlife survivin’, wasn’t the best sniffer of the bunch. But he could certainly try, he supposed, dipping his head to the smaller woman with a sun bright grin.

Its nice ta meetcha, Miss Malila. He quipped, ever cheerful as he wrangled his legs into standing again, peering at the quagmire around their feet.

You havva way you wanna go in particular?

The question he proposed to her made her brows furrow. Normally it was a simple one to answer. But now, with her conflicting feelings towards Rivenwood, Malila had to dig deep. Looking back, while those in the pack were decent enough, it was her own fault that she had not tried to integrate herself more. That was in thanks to her newfound reclusive habits, following the departure of her mother, Speedy.

She was far away from them now, the scent of the pack faded by the stink of the swamp. If anyone was truly concerned enough for her, then they would come searching. Deciding that this day and it's occasion was enough to conclude her time with Rivenwood had come to an end, she just shook her head. "Anywhere...west of here." She managed, happy to follow the path of the descending sun.

She spoke of going west of here, and Mustang gave a little nod, flashing a quick grin. The debate in her head went right over his, the golden boy knowing nothing of his companion’s turmoil as he turned his face to the sun and grinned like a flower opening to sunlight.

Whatever you say ma’am! Came the exuberant voice of the young man as he began to move towards the west, grin still upon his features as he did. He and Missus Malia could travel for a bit, maybe. Lord knew Mustang needed the help.