Room to Breathe (open) Jul 1, 2016 4:23:33 GMT
Post by Snakefang on Jul 1, 2016 4:23:33 GMT
If there was one place he was not going to be ambushed by bloodthirsty rogues, it would be elbows deep in the muddy marshes. Which was exactly where Snakefang found himself at sunhigh. He had thought- it's gross there, maybe they won't bug me and I can hunt for a few hours alone, hopefully catching something with his poor skill. A slow frog or perhaps a butterfly. Okay, okay, he would be the first to admit maybe he was being lazy. There was simply no room to breathe in camp, all the stagnant bodies, huddled close, emanating fear.
He had nothing to fear, with his long silver claws and broad strong shoulders. He was a powerhouse in battle, but apparently, not intelligent enough to notice the loose peat right under his snout. Now the sucking mud had pulled him into a mire and he found himself a fair amount stuck, elbows deep, in green, sliming, stinking mud. It coated his belly fur and splashed his flapping tail and he leaned back onto his haunches, trying to work his paws out of their cold, disgusting prison.
A small part of him prayed for a passing patrol, even with the red-hot embarrassment that prickled his fur. He'd even take a bloodthirsty rogue at this moment, if they would only pull him out before they killed him. A brown, bumpy toad hopped up beside him, blinking it's glassy eyes as the scene before him as if to mock the young tom. Spitting ragefully, he kicked out at the toad with his hind paws, twisting himself in a rather painful manner and sliding his haunches through the mud. The toad lept safely away, hardly phased by the tantrum.
With a hiss, he flopped and scrabbled around in the mossy peat, trying to regain his askew footwork. Finally, he gave up, and groaned cattishly in his frustrations. Maybe he'd wanted a little too much room to breathe.