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"Ah, so you must be the new hunter that the Guild sent!"

Daro didn't answer the question right away. He was too busy looking around and taking stock of the village now that he had a chance to see it all, and he was none too impressed. Most of the buildings he had passed looked to have been shuttered up or otherwise abandoned, and the streets were just too quiet. Even here in the central gathering plaza there was a dearth of activity, a few felynes moping about at empty stalls, a tired looking woman sweeping dust in a corner. It hardly qualified as a village in his mind.

With a bit of an unintentional scowl, he turned toward the village elder who had addressed him, a man who looked as if he had once been portly but lost too much weight and now his skin sagged and swayed. "I'm hardly a new hunter," he said, coolly.

The man waved away the thought with a shake of his head. "Not at all, not at all. You came highly recommended after all. I just meant new, as in ... well. I'm sure you've heard about the situation here."

The Guild had actually given him relatively little in the way of details about the situation, other than a fairly small, fairly isolated village was in dire need of assistance from a hunter and was willing to pay handsomely. "A little. I'm told you've had a few hunters who failed to assist you with your request."

At that, the elder squirmed a bit where he stood, wringing his hands. "Yes, well. Failed is one word for it. I suppose there's no use in mincing words at this point; they simply failed to return and have not been heard from since."

Daro cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Other hunters have gone missing?"

"I'm afraid so. Not just hunters. For several weeks now, trade caravans have stopped making their scheduled deliveries. You see, we're just a small town and we rely upon trade with other villages to the west. When they stopped showing up, we sent people to investigate. They never came back. We requested aid from the Guild, and they sent hunters. They never came back." Again the man wrung his hands together and shrugged helplessly. "People have begun leaving in fear and desperation. Food stores are drying up. If we can't restore our trade routes I'm afraid the village just won't survive."

"So it's a dangerous mission," the hunter quipped, pausing to turn and stroke a hand along the side of his palamute, Steel. "That'd explain the high value of the reward."

The elder cringed. "It's literally all we have left. We can't go on like this."

Dangerous missions weren't something that were new to a hunter of his caliber, Daro thought to himself. He'd been on a handful himself. Still, a situation that'd seen other hunters vanish without a trace, and a situation so dire that a village would be willing to part with so much of their treasury made him wonder what he was up against. "What can you tell me of this danger?" He kept his voice cool and calm. He had to project an air of confidence to these people, after all.

"Precious little. No one knows what's caused the disappearances."

"No? Well perhaps you could share some information of value?" He shot back with perhaps a bit more irritation than he meant.

At that the man seemed to recoil a little. "My apologies, hunter. Of course I will share as much with you as I know. To the west of here is a large desert. Harsh, dry, and difficult to cross, even in the cooler winter months. There is, however, an oasis along the trade route. It's an important stop along the route for trade caravans, for the traders to rest and replenish, and the local felynes maintain a small trading post there as well. A few rudimentary accommodations for weary travelers, that sort of thing.

"When the caravans stopped showing up, we sent riders to inquire with the felynes at the trading post. They failed to return. Others followed, and only a few came back to report. Those that did all stopped short of the oasis and returned home, to report that there was nothing amiss on the trail in the desert. We have to assume that whatever disaster has befallen the caravans must be found in the oasis itself."

Daro paused to think about the situation for a moment. He wasn't especially familiar with the area, though he'd done enough research to know that the desert, while not exactly harmless, wasn't especially dangerous. During migration periods, unwary travelers sometimes ran into roving bands of hungry Jaggi or the occasional patrolling Basarios, but otherwise not likely to run into too much trouble. He knew nothing about this oasis, however. "What can you tell me about the oasis itself?"

"It's fairly large," the elder began. "Formed at the foot of a large rocky outcrop, springs bubble out of the ground and pool together in a small, shallow lake. The trading post and area the caravans stop are there along the lake, plenty of fresh water, some fish, wild fruit and that sort of thing. The water flows out of the lake and into some canyons that cut through the badlands there, but it gets all swampy and fetid."

"Is it possible they're running into trouble in that swampy area?"

The man scowled at the thought. "What? No. No one would go down into those swampy canyons voluntarily. Too much muck to get stuck in, too many biting insects to deal with, and too many foul odors."

The hunter scratched his chin and tugged on the whiskers there. "Maybe something's come up from that area? Perhaps desert creatures coming into the oasis?"

"I suppose it's possible but I wouldn't think so." The old man shrugged a little. "Oh, to be sure there's plenty of smaller critters that come in from the desert for a drink or two, but anything bigger or more menacing keeps their distance. There's a Mizutsune that patrols the waters."

"Mizutsune?" Daro again quirked an eyebrow at that, pausing to let his fingers run through Steel's fur, turning to give his companion a little look. "Sounds to me like you know what the problem is, right there."

A little snort came back as a response. "What? No, no no. The Mizutsune at the oasis has been there for, well, as long as any of us remember. It's only territorial toward other large monsters. It's never harmed any of the caravans or bothered any travelers, in fact it seems to prefer to keep its distance. Why, there are even sightseers who go to the oasis specifically hoping to see it for themselves. Well. There used to be sightseers."

The answer seemed a little too convenient to satisfy him, and the willingness of the elder to gloss over it rankled his senses a bit. "Just because it's been peaceful in the past does not mean it will stay peaceful forever. They've been known to become very territorial and aggressive during the mating season, and I've heard stories from other villages of otherwise peaceful monsters going out of control for that very reason. They're just dumb beasts, after all, and can be unpredictable."

"Well, maybe," the elder responded, furrowing his eyebrows and pausing to think it over. "But it's never shown any hostility in the years anyone's been keeping track. Surely there have been any number of mating seasons that have passed, so why would it become violent now?"

"As I said, they're simple beasts. Driven by hungers and needs that don't obey reason," he responded, squaring his shoulders and patting Steel on the flank. "Either way it sounds like we know what your problem is. I've hunted Mizutsune before, and I'm confident I can handle this one for you."

The man lifted his hand, stuttering a little before he spoke. "Yes, please, but. Before you do anything rash, please make sure? I ... don't want you hurting it, unless it's absolutely necessary."

Daro was a little taken aback at the request. "What?"

"The villagers, many of us view it as something of a, how shall I say. Patron of the village, a protector if you will. If something were to happen to it, I fear it'd be a blow to the morale of the village, almost as devastating as what we are going through now."

He had dealt with pacifists like this before, people who believed that monsters could somehow be friendly or show intelligence. Some who even dared try to tame and befriend the beasts. The thought left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. "Just tell me where this oasis is, and I'll see to it your caravans begin travelling again soon."

The elder took a step back, hesitant, concern in his eyes. There was desperation there, too, however, and it only took a moment for that desperation to win out. "The western road," he said, his voice dropping as if defeated. "It's the only road into the desert, you can't get lost if you just follow it. The oasis is most of a day's travel for a caravan, although you and your palamute should be able to cover the distance in less than half the time."

Daro looked up at the sun, climbing upward into the sky. Though it was still morning, it wouldn't be long until midday. At half a day's travel, he could make it to the oasis easily enough and take care of the threat. He'd probably have to rest there for the night, but he could be back in time to collect his reward and be on his way back home before the following day was done. "Don't worry old man. I'll be back with the good news before lunchtime tomorrow."

He didn't bother waiting for a response before he turned on his heel and pointed himself to the west. "Come on, Steel. Looks like we've got a bit of a stroll in front of us."

* * * * *

The oasis was a place that should have looked inviting. After a long trek in the hot sun over so much parched and dusty ground, the sight of green trees and water shimmering up ahead was one that should have lightened any traveler's heart and made their step feel a little lighter. Even knowing what had been happening, Daro expected to have arrived with a little more lightness and excitement in his heart.

In spite of the serene setting, however, there was an air of something amiss, something very wrong. All it took was once glance at the trading post that hugged the side of the path as it neared the water. Though there was no sign of trouble - no obvious signs of any attack, nothing like dead bodies lying around, the small wooden structure with its door swinging languidly in the breeze created an air of abandonment that made a shiver run down his spine. A series of tents that stood next to the small building were in various states of disrepair, some having toppled over, others with their doors similarly flapping in the breeze.

Worst of all, however, was the quiet. Even the breeze itself seemed to be muted, a preternatural silence hanging over the location as if nature itself didn't disturb whatever was going on here. The trees should have been filled with chirping birds and the underbrush should have been shuddering with the sound of scampering creatures, but instead it was as quiet as a cemetery. Daro shuddered again. He'd seen carnage before, and somehow that was not as bad as the unnatural quiet.

As he neared the outpost, he realized there was signs of some kind of fight or scuffle. A handful of fairly simple weapons were scattered along the side of the road, and furrows had been dug into the ground in front of the doorway. Breathing out a quiet "Whoa, let's stop here," he commanded Steel to a stop and hopped off to exame the marks left in the ground. They were certainly left by the claws of a large creature. He certainly couldn't rule out that it had been left by a Mizutsune.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure there was no ambush, he crept into the little wooden building and took a look around. Here there was no sign of struggle, and in fact there was every sign that things had been quite normal until very suddenly they weren't. Half opened packages on a table were filled with goods, some of which had spoiled. A stack of coins sat on the counter next to a ledger where transactions were scrawled. All the signs of a healthy business, except that there was no one there.

He spent only a few minutes looking inside before he headed back out, rolling his shoulders to adjust the armor that weighed him down slightly. He threw a knowing glance at Steel, a nonverbal cue to be ready for whatever might come. His hand went to his hip and rested briefly on the hilt of his sword, a little assurance that it was still there. A Mizutsune was something he knew he could handle. There was no reason to feel fear here, he reminded himself, pausing a moment to breathe in deep and recenter himself.

Outside, he made his way further along the road. Ahead were signs of a caravan, wagons pulled over to the side of the road and tents erected near the edge of the shallow lake, glimpses of which he caught through the stands of trees that now lined the road. Much like the outpost, the caravans were in a state of having been abandoned, but here it was worse. There was what looked like the remains of an old cooking fire, a pot of what might have been stew overturned and its contents long since dried into a crust. Stools rung the fire with bowls and eating implements scattered to the sides. Clearly the people who had been here ran into trouble that they did not expect. Further down the road he could see more of the wagons, these in more of a state of disarray.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a hint of movement. Halting, he twisted his head and gazed out across the shallow lake, rimmed with verdant trees and high, steep rocks on most sides. A flash of lavender and purple shimmered in the distance, an elegant and graceful figure almost sliding along the surface of the lake. It was the Mizutsune he had expected. Daro gripped at the hilt of his sword and stood still. The creature stopped and aimed its gaze in his direction. He'd been seen.

In the space of a heartbeat it changed direction and headed straight toward him; in the space of a breath it slid effortlessly across the surface of the water and closed the gap. It nearly caught him off guard, as even the most territorial and aggressive of creatures tended to at least wait to see what he was before charging in like this, let alone the usually sanguine Mizutsune. He barely had enough time to draw his sword and lift the weapon in front of him before he was hit in the face with a spray of cool water, kicked up by the sudden approach, momentarily blinding him. Instinct kicked in, reminding him of where the creature was and what direction it was moving, and his legs went into action. He quickly dove to the side, tucking himself into a roll, feeling the whoosh of air from what could only have been the monster gliding right over him before he jumped back to his feet and turned to face it.

The Mizu was a furious blur, almost a whirlwind unlike anything he had seen from these creatures before. It whipped around and planted its forefeet into the ground at the edge of the lake and unleashed an ear piercing screech, hardly pausing before it leaped at him anew, giving him again just enough time to swing his sword and parry. He could feel the weapon connect, the jolt pushing him back and nearly making him stumble, reeling, but his training kept him on his feet, regaining his balance and bringing his sword up again. With a whirl of his own he was able to swing and deliver a glancing blow to the creature's tail as it whipped past him, slicing off some of the hairs and digging into the scales, connecting with a satisfying thunk.

At last his fear transformed into pure adrenaline. The hunt was on.

Again the creature surprised him, whipping around and firing off a powerful jet of water that swept across the surface of the lake right toward him. Of course he'd seen this kind of attack before but usually they reserved it for later in the fight, and again he had to call on all of his training to leap into a dodge and just avoid the jet, the sound of that water slicing into the ground behind him and tearing a muddy scar into the earth. He shouted in response, bringing his sword up and lunged toward the creature, swinging for its snarling head.

Imbued with the element of thunder, the sword all but crackled as it arced through the air and just missed the monster's neck, instead striking a glancing blow against its shoulder, digging in enough to draw blood and cause it to shriek out in pain. With terrifying speed, however, the bewitching dancer spun around and whipped that long tail. Daro couldn't react in time and it caught him right in the midsection, lifting him off the ground and sending him reeling backward until he fell on his back in the water, almost deep enough to cover his face. He gasped at the shock but was able to roll himself back to his feet; the armor was doing its job in protecting him from the worst of the blow.

Steel snarled and leaped into action, the palamute almost as graceful as the Mizu as he dodged an attack and went for the neck. Daro knew he wouldn't have to command his companion or tell him what to do, the canyne more a partner than a helper here. The attack would give him an opening to recover, charging in with a lunge right for the monster's chest. Those thick scales would probably repel such a blow, but with the aid of that imbued thunder, might just be enough to gravely wound it.

The sword connected and then deflected, a little shower of sparks making the monster flinch back a little. It might not have been a lethal blow but he'd take the opportunity, swinging up and at its neck once again. This time he got the real connection he wanted, slicing into the scales and sending the Mizu reeling backward in pain. "There we go," he all but hissed under his breath, bringing himself up with a grin.

He couldn't have guessed how quick this monster was, however. By the time he was ready to charge in with another blow, it was already spewing out a shower of bubbles in his direction. There was no time to dodge them and he'd have to charge right through the barrage, but as they began to slap into him and pop, he realized that something was very different, and that realization felt very, very wrong. As they popped they quickly coated his armor and his weapon with a thick glaze of mucus, much thicker than they should have been, and with a very unusual scent. He'd encountered these bubbles before, several times, but never had they felt so substantial, never had they produced such a powerful odor that almost burned in his nostrils and made him nearly choke up.

Then the Mizu was there. It charged at him with that same ungodly speed, running right through the barrage of bubbles, bearing down on him with a fierce, ruddy gaze. He gasped and tried to bring his sword up to parry the blow again but it suddenly felt heavy in his grip; the pommel was coated in that same slippery foam that was coating his armor. He felt it slip just as the beast swung a massive, clawed forelimb at him and cuffed him neatly against the side, sending him spinning through the air with a cry.

He crashed down in the water again, the shallow shore of the lake. He could feel himself sliding against the sandy bottom before he came to a stop, and suddenly it was looming over him again. Instinctively he swung his arm to bring his sword out in front of him, but in a chilling instant he realized it was no longer in his hand - somewhere in the melee, slickened up as it was, it had slipped from his grip and fallen into the water. He could see it out of the corner of his eye, well out of reach.

Over him, merely feet away, was an angry Mizutsune, with a look in its eyes that was filled with rage, murder, and something that looked decidedly hungry. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Daro wondered what it was that Mizutsune normally ate, probably fish. He wondered how hungry they had to be to turn to human prey.

The monster shrieked, mere inches from his face, hot breath washing over him and deadly fangs close enough he could reach up and touch them with his hand. He had no way of defending himself. His heart nearly stopped in his chest, and in that moment, for the first time in his life, he was completely frozen with fear.

Then, as suddenly as it was upon him, it was gone. With a flourish the elegant beast whipped itself around, tail lashing and snapping at the air over him, and it slid almost effortlessly across the lake, away from him, at that same dizzying speed as before. Bewildered, Daro watched it recede toward one of the canyons in the rock face across the lake, one of the swampy distributaries that the village elder had told him about, until it disappeared into the darkness. Following close at its heels was his palamute, Steel.

He tried to call out but his voice only cracked, and then he coughed up a mixture of water and foam. A moment later his companion vanished into the same gap in the rocks as the Mizu.

After what felt like too long a moment, Daro hauled himself back up to his feet and stumbled over to where his sword lay in the water, scooping it up. Enough of the slippery mucus had washed off in the lake that it felt sturdy in his hand again, and without another thought he made his way across the lake, too, wading through the water up to his hip before it began to grow shallow once more. Part of him thought he should just count his lucky stars and make his escape while he could, but there was no way he could abandon his friend like that.

Another part of him wondered what had just happened. He had been disarmed and helpless, and he had only seen a hunger so keen in a monster like that a few times. All it would have taken was one quick snap of the jaws and he would have been dinner, he would have disappeared just as the other hunters before him. Why had he been spared?

Confusion closed in around his mind as effectively as the walls of the canyon that he was stepping into. The water of the shallow lake did not stop here, but it also did not flow freely out into a stream or a river. Instead it kind of lazily meandered along the floor of the canyon, a slow and languid seeping into the shadowed regions at the foot of those rocks. Less friendly looking plants took advantage of the cool wetness and choked the passage, forcing him to follow along a narrow and winding path. At first he could see that the silt beneath had been kicked up by Steel and muddied the waters, but soon the waters were all murk and muck of their own accord, and each step became more laborious than the last as it sucked and pulled at his feet. Contrary to what the elder had warned him of, however, there were no biting insects and no foul gasses to assail his senses, just the ever thickening mud lying under a thin veneer of turbid brown water.

The canyon rounded a corner and, much to his relief, opened up rather than becoming more narrow and restrictive. The walls towered overhead such that the sunlight didn't reach the bottom but at least it wasn't so choked with encroaching vines and creeping plants. The murky water spread out along the width of the opening, its progress coming almost to a halt and forming a proper looking swamp, complete with scraggly looking trees on small islets, each one draped in mosses in various shades of dull green and brown. A light but enduring mist clung to the surface of the bog, making it somewhat difficult to make out anything in the distance, and the air was still enough that even in the shade it seemed to be accumulating an uncomfortable, humid warmth.

"Steel?" His more cautious side told him he should be quiet, but he doubted caution would do him any good here. More than that, he was beginning to worry about his companion. Here there was no more sign than anyone had come before him, neither his companion nor the monster that it pursued. Surely they could not have gone another way, as the narrow canyon had no other exit, but now it was as if they had been simply swallowed up by the swamp.

What would a Mizutsune be doing retreating to a place like this anyway?

As the misty air swallowed up the echo of his call, the swamp seemed to respond with a brief, muffled burble. Daro jerked his head in the direction of the sound, and little ripples disturbed the surface of the muck in concentric rings from that direction. "Steel? Is that you buddy?" He sloshed his way toward the ripples, his footsteps slow and labored in the muck, but as he drew near the ripples subsided until all that was left were those he stirred up with his own movements. The air once more swallowed up the sound of his voice and the sloshing of the water, heavy and foreboding.

He felt the fear again starting to grip at his throat, rising upward and making him swallow down a bit of a gulp. Glancing around he could not find any sign that he was anything other than very alone in this place. No insects buzzing in the air, no birds in the trees, no frogs in the mud and no fish in the water. Silent, just as the lake had been before he had encountered the Mizu. Much more silent than any place had any right to be.

"I can't let fear win. I'm a hunter. I've trained for this," he whispered to himself, feeling the pommel of his sword in his hand again, gripping at it as if to reassure himself. His friend had to be here somewhere. That damned Mizu had to be here somewhere. He'd never seen a beast like that before, and he knew he had to be the one to take it down. That was not something he could accomplish if he let fear get the best of him. Steel might need his help, and he couldn't do that if he were frozen with fear.

Another sound finally registered in his ears, like the sound of mud sloshing and being sucked against his boots when he moved, but he was still. He couldn't pinpoint the sound, as it seemed to permeate the heavy air all around him, coming from above, below, every direction all at once, quiet but real. He tightened his grip on his sword, and then he saw ripples in the muddy water pass through his legs, from behind.

He whipped around and immediately came face to face with the creature. Baleful red eyes glared at him from beneath a pair of massive ridges, dripping and oozing with mud. That same mud slid downward over jaws that snarled, dripping down tendril-like whiskers before splashing into the ooze below, a quiet sort of plop, plop, plop that was only just louder than the low rumble emanating from the monster's chest as it rose up out of the mud, the thick muck sloughing off its sides as it revealed itself.

Almudron.

Daro nearly swallowed his tongue as he realized it wasn't the Mizu he had been chasing. He screamed internally, wanting to know what this beast was doing here, why a Mizu had lured him into its domain. He trembled. He had been prepared to fight a Mizutsune, not this. He felt a warm trickle run down his thigh that he could not blame on the murky waters of the swamp. It was time for flight or fight.

He hardly had time to raise his sword before he caught sight of the creature's massive tail rising from the murk behind it, caked in mud and muck, whipping around and catching him full on. Maybe it was just the size of the thing, or maybe it was the added weight of the mud that also slammed into him, but he immediately saw stars as he went careening through the misty air and landed with a muted splash in the mud, face first, gagging on the murk before he rolled over and pushed himself up with a gasp.

There was no need to look to know that he'd once again lost his sword, and this time there'd be no finding it, swallowed into the mud below. He swiped away at the mud on his face to let him open his eyes, going wide at the side of the Almudron only a few yards away, snarling at him with a look full of malice.

Flight it was.

As quick as his legs would move, he hauled himself up and started to slosh his way through the mud. He wasn't even sure which way led back to the lake at this point, but the visceral need to get away had made his thoughts as clear as the muck he was trying to work his way out of. He knew it was probably a useless effort, as there was no way he was going to escape a creature that could probably cut right through the muck as effortlessly as he could run through the air, but he had to try. He just had to escape.

An irritated roar at his back shook him to the core but somehow gave his legs all the more energy to keep on going.

Somehow, impossibly, he found the ground beneath his feet grow more firm. His soles found purchase on rocks, slick as they were, under the thin layer of water and mud, propelling himself up out of the murk and onto a sort of embankment that skirted along the edge of the mire. Feeling a brief sense of hope, he turned to look behind him and see how far behind his pursuer might be, and again, for a brief moment, he felt hope when he realized the Almudron was not pursuing him but was standing its ground.

That hope fled him as he saw the creature scoop up a mound of oozing mud with its tail and fling it as efficiently as any trebuchet, sending a volley of mud in his direction. He did his best to dodge but it was of no use. Soft as it was, the mud was heavy and felt as vicious as stone as it slammed into his back and sent him tumbling forward, another heavy bolus of the mass crashing into him and mounding up on his back.

It felt heavy, so very heavy. He tried to push himself up, but he felt buried by the stuff. His head and shoulders, mercifully, were still above the muck and he still fought to claw and pull at the ground beneath him, slowly emerging from the muck. Again he turned to look behind him, but suddenly there was no sign of the Almudron, not so much as a ripple on the surface of the swamp, not a peep in the air other than his own struggle. The unnatural silence was almost deafening, making him feel paranoid. Where was it?

The mud still clutched at him. It not only felt heavy, crushing, but it was also thick and sticky, almost impossibly so. With the last shreds of his strength he pulled himself free of the mess, rising to his feet and casting off as much of it as he could, glancing around for any sign of his foe.

He found none, and that was almost as frightening as if it were there staring him down. Once again he tried to run but felt weighted down by the mud. An urge, an idea sprouted in his head, and he reached under his armor to tug and pull at the clasps. Piece by piece it fell to the ground, and with each part he felt lighter, less of the mud-riddled and heavy garb to pull him down. With an almost energetic breath he again ran as fast as he could toward the narrower part of the canyon, no sign of the monster in sight.

Again hope only lasted so long. Just as he was about to reach the bend in the canyon that he thought would take him away from the swamp, the ground in front of him heaved. Enormous mounds of mud rose up, heaped and piled on top of itself in a barrier as effective as a wall, cutting him off from that route of escape. It wasn't hard to come to a halt, the ground at his feet as thick and sloshing as before, and this time, when he turned, it was more with a sense of resignation as he once again found himself staring down the angry visage of the Almudron.

He didn't know how it had gotten there. It hadn't been there one second and then there it was, standing in front of him, tail unfurled behind it and looking hateful and menacing. It couldn't have moved that fast. "It's not fair," he whispered to himself. None of it made sense. The impossibly fast Mizu. The Almudron that seemed to wink in and out of existence. Why he was even here in the first place.

The Almudron glared and hissed, and something inside of him just snapped. There was nowhere left to run, so flight was out of the question. There was no way to fight a beast like this without a weapon, but what choice did he have? With an almost feral yell he launched himself in the direction of the beast, arms outstretched in front of him. The monster responded by merely cocking its head, scooping up a great blob of gold-tinged mud with its tail, and promptly lobbed it in his direction.

Daro didn't try to dodge. He didn't so much as flinch until he was suddenly beat back by the weight of the mud, slapping him backward and sending him reeling. He was enveloped by the mud, head to toe, encased in the stuff, thick, heavy and unyielding. He couldn't flee. He couldn't fight. The only option left was to just give up.

For a moment he did just that, his body going slack, feeling the crushing weight of the mud around him, but his lungs had other plans in mind. They began to burn from the lack of air, and survival instinct began to kick in again. Unbidden, he started to struggle. He clawed and pushed, tried to dig himself out of the mud, the burn in his lungs starting to become unbearable. He had to breathe, he needed to breathe. Panic was setting in, and his movements became erratic and ineffective. Not like this, he thought. Not like this.

At the last moment, he felt air on his lips, emerging from the mud and drawing in a deep, gasping breath, but he was still not free. He could feel his face close to the surface of the swamp, ripples in the water still splashing against his face, threatening to choke him anew. The weight of the mud on his back was still nearly unbearable, still felt like it was trying to crush him and push him back down into the muck.

All he could do was push back against it. On all fours, he could feel his fingers pressing against something more firm under the muck, more rocks again, perhaps, just enough for him to support himself against the crushing pressure of that mud. For a moment he could feel some of the mud starting to slide, ooze its way down his face and start to cover his eyes and his nose again, threatening to cut off his air once more. He shook his head as hard as he could, casting little bits of the mud aside and gasping for air.

Help, he tried to call out, but could not. Not that anyone was there to help him.

His eyes covered, his ears covered, he couldn't really tell what was going on. There was a renewed pressure and he wondered if he were being attacked again. Perhaps he was being buried with more mud. He tried to push back against it but it was just so heavy. He felt his limbs begin to waver, and as he gave it one last effort to push himself up again they just gave way and he drooped deeper into the muck. Muddy water started to rush into his nostrils once more, coughing and sputtering as the weight of the mud pushed his head back under the surface, back into the sticky, creeping clutching mud.

He hadn't been given any time to inhale before being pushed beneath the mud again, and already he started to feel that panic and burn in his chest. He tried to push himself up, but this time it was truly useless, as the crushing weight of the mud over him had forced his limbs to jut outward, giving him nothing to push against. He wanted to cry, wanted to cry out, but the increasingly thick muddy waters rushing around his face wouldn't let him.

The weight of that mud was almost as bad as the burning in his chest. He could feel it against his back, somehow growing worse by the second. He felt as if he were being flattened out, buried under more and more of that mud, powerless to push back against it. His limbs felt like they were being bent at the wrong angles as he was ground into the murk, like some hapless insect being snuffed out under an unforgiving heel. Bright, searing flashes of pain erupted up and down his body, as some detached part of his mind decided it was the feeling of his bones being broken, one by one. He wasn't sure what was going to kill him first, the weight of the mud pulverizing him into paste, or the lack of air that was making his lungs want to explode. In spite of the darkness he was beginning to see stars.

Is this how all those other hunters died?

When it felt like he could take no more, when his lungs were to the point he had to inhale, whether it was fresh air or deadly silt and mud, when he was certain that his bones were going to be crushed beyond recognition, he suddenly felt the weight on him lighten. With the last ounce of strength he could muster, he was able to pull his limbs in and find purchase in the rocks beneath him, just enough strength to push himself up out of the murk, his head breaking the surface, letting him draw in an enormous, needy lungful of air. Never had the murky, fetid air of a swamp tasted so sweet as when he gasped that deep gulp of the stuff.

On all fours and hunched over in the mud the way he was, he could have just stayed there for an age while he let the air flood back into him and pull him back from the brink, but he remembered that he was not alone here. Lifting his head was a chore, still heavy with mud, the memory of the crushing, grinding weight that he'd felt only moments ago dulling his movements and his senses, but he had to look around. The swamp seemed to be calm once again, and some of the mist even seemed to have lifted, letting his gaze pierce more deeply, nearly to the far side of the water. All was still. Other than his own labored breathing and the sloshing of the mud beneath him it was quiet. There was no sign of it.

With a heave, he tried to push himself back up to his feet but his body refused. There was another flash of pain in his back, down toward his hips, but more than that his balance seemed to be off. The mud still heaped on his back, perhaps, which he tried to shake off, sending it flying in all directions, splashing against the water, but he still could not lift himself up out of the water. He felt like he had the strength, but again his body refused, and he felt himself drawn back toward the water with a muffled splash.

Anxiously, he cast a glance behind him. His breath caught in his throat when he spied that big, heavy tail hanging over the surface of the water, dripping with mud, feathery appendages drooping and twitching. He steeled himself for another attack but this time it did not come, and as his eyes watched that heavy tail swaying lightly in the air, following it back up its length toward its owner, expecting to see angry eyes glaring back down at him. Instead, he could only follow it back to himself.

In the foreground of his vision, looking over his shoulder, he could see the expanse of big, dark scales, the swooping lines of ridges, the long leviathan body stretching back and away from him toward that tail moving uncertainly, the last dredges of mud sliding away from scales into the muck beneath him. In front of it all, almost ignored in his vision, a long, scaled snout jutted out.

His tail. His scales. His snout.

With a resonant sort of cry he whipped himself around and tried to push himself up to standing again, casting his glance downward. His forelegs broke the surface, muddy water streaming away from five wicked claws before gravity tugged him downward again and they splashed beneath the surface. His hindquarters were not meant to move that way.

A new sort of panic gripped him as he started to thrash. He drove himself forward, his limbs raking at the muddy earth beneath him, his long frame whipping around in the water and driving it into a frothy frenzy. Rolling in the mud, he caught sight of ruddy belly plates and the long, powerful frame of a leviathan's body. Unsteady, he fell to his back and splashed in the water, his limbs briefly flailing about in the air, his weight and balance feeling all wrong until he managed to get his feet back underneath him, flipping over and getting himself upright once again, chest heaving and breathing in deep, ragged breaths.

There wasn't enough time to really process the confusion on his mind, however. Upstream, toward the shallow lake, there was a figure that was stretched across the entrance, a lithe creature coiling and uncoiling as it watched him. The Mizutsune.

He drew himself up, feeling his back arch and the ridges along his back rise high, making himself look bigger, letting out a deep, echoing gowl. The Mizu, however, didn't strike an aggressive stance. It watched him, intently, curiously, before sliding closer, singing out a burbling sort of note that carried with it a light spray of bubbles. The bubbles danced and drifted through the heavy air of the swamp, light and sparkling, caught on little air currents before one lit upon his nose and burst, filling his nostrils with that odd scent that he had noticed before, this time making him feel almost pleasantly lightheaded.

The creature slid and twisted along the surface of the water, leaving behind only the faintest suggestion of a wake, sliding up close to him. Its dance was almost hypnotic, leaving Daro in almost a trance as he watched until it drew up near. It wore that same hungry expression that he had seen before - no, she wore that same hungry expression. Singing out that light note again, she leaned in and brushed right up alongside him, her muzzle caressing at his neck before she coiled and twisted away again.

He understood. Her hungry eyes, her scent, her flirtatious dance. His mind still wanted to be confused at what had happened, what was happening, but as the fear that he had felt before melted it gave way into entirely new but not unfamiliar feelings. He could feel a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, an urging in his loins that didn't leave enough room in his conscious mind for things like confusion or questioning. There might be time for that later, but now was not that time.

Drawing himself up out of the mud again, his limbs began to feel more coordinated, more natural and sure of themselves. The muck beneath him no longer seemed to pull and suck, but instead let his scaled pawdigits slide and slice right through it, able to cut his way through the mire and toward the elegant dancer in a slow but easy glide. The Mizutsune continued to dance, twisting, coiling and uncoiling over the water, kicking up little ripples and more of those airy bubbles that meandered through the air and carried her scent with them. She watched him as she danced, too, her eyes almost never leaving, always beckoning, drawing him closer.

When he came close enough, she twisted again and turned away from him, her slender body arching and lifting her long tail to let the soft, luxurious purple fur of her tail brush against his cheek and along down his neck. He couldn't help but to nuzzle back against the tail, feeling the interplay between that soft fur and his sensitive whiskers, his eyes briefly drawn to the sight of her undertail when it was lifted, presenting a slit near the base that was swollen and flushed, all but radiating her scent and need. Nuzzling up along the length of her tail, he watched the fins on her back lift briefly before they settled back down against her, making her look more sleek.

She turned back to look over her shoulder at him when he had pulled himself up enough to let him rub the side of his muzzle to her hip and up over her haunches, singing a soft little crooning sound to him that was music in his ears. He eased himself up, pushing his chest over her backside, his forelimbs hooking neatly around her torso, pulling himself more out of the water as he did. The mud dripped from his frame but slid effortlessly from her scales, as if it didn't dare to sully her figure in this moment. She wriggled her way back underneath him as much as he pulled himself over her frame, letting his weight settle over her until he was able to lean in and nuzzle along the back of her earfrills, which lifted high as she sang to him again. He breathed a soft, lusty growl to her in return.

There was no mistaking when he was lined up, as he could feel her scales and her warmth up against his member, swollen and eager between his legs. A little shift in his hips, a small adjustment was all it took to get him nestled up under her tail and then he could feel her, warm and needy, pressing against him. Almost effortlessly he felt his tip catch in the slit between her scales there, and his hips gave an instinctive little jab forward. Suddenly he felt himself surrounded in her heat, a slick, gripping pressure around his flesh as he rocked himself forward, his breath coming out in unsteady grunts.

At last his hips came flush up against her undertail, and he was buried to the hilt in her heat. He could feel that slick but slightly textured tunnel gripping at him, little ripples of pressure that urged him along. The Mizu let her tail run along his, looping and coiling loosely together, an intimate embrace during this most intimate of embraces. She turned to look back at him again, that intensely hungry look still in her eyes though they had grown wider, her jaw a little slack, the female breathing in deep.

Daro felt like he could get lost in those eyes - he wanted to get lost in those eyes. He returned her gaze, his own a fiery red even if he did not know it. There was no need for him to think about what he was doing, nature and instinct readily kicking in and setting his hips into motion, an even sawing motion back and forth that drove him nice and deep into her heat. It was bliss.

How could he have failed to notice how enticing Mizutsune looked before this? He had never bothered to gaze so deep into one's eyes before and now that he was, he could not think of any place he'd rather be. Lust and need gripped at his thoughts, and as his body moved and surged against hers, he let loose another deep, possessive sort of growl, feeling his claws press and clutch against her scales, finding places to fit between them and tug her slender frame more fully to his own. Muscles he was still not quite familiar with took over, and he could feel his tail returning the embrace of her own, tightening the coil, squeezing and rubbing.

The sounds of heated panting began to echo in the air around him, competing with the ripple and slosh of the marsh beneath them. After a time the Mizu closed her eyes and began to trill out a needy little song, her neck frills lifting again, the colors there deepening. He could feel her body starting to clutch at him more eagerly, rhythmic clenching and unclenching around his sensitive member, squeezing and drawing him more rapidly toward his inevitable conclusion. He wanted to have more, wanted to spend the rest of the day like this, but the sensations were unlike any that he had ever known before. Blissful, powerful, taking over his senses and urging his hips to move more quickly, more purposefully, working himself up into a proper breeding rhythm.

He wanted to hold back, wanted to keep going, but his willpower was quickly fading. Again the Mizu beneath him cried out, more shrill and high pitched, an eager whine punctuated by soft whimpers as she called for him in her own way. She needed him, and he needed her.

It came quickly, more quickly than he expected, catching him off guard and making him cry out in a short bellow. He could feel his body tense up and then shudder, driving himself into her depth, he could feel himself throbbing and pulsating in her heat as he was overcome by such a rush of raw pleasure he thought he might pass out. He clutched at her tightly with her limbs, kept his back arched and rode out the climax, buried deep inside of her, pumping himself into her needy, willing tunnel.

It passed, too, much more quickly than he expected, and much, much more quickly than he wanted. As his climax ebbed he felt the energy rush out of him, his limbs suddenly feeling as limp as noodles, his weight bearing down heavily against the Mizu. Without meaning to he crashed against her again and slumped to the side, rolling, dragging her with him until they splashed together into the muck. With a playful squeal she withdrew from his embrace and spun around in the air, pulling her heat away from him all too quickly. He gasped and grunted at the chilly caress of the muddy water against his too sensitive member, making him twitch and flail. It was over far too soon.

For a long moment, he looked up from the mud at her and tried to gauge her expression. The hunger was still there behind her eyes, not satiated but at least tempered for the moment. She seemed playful, curious, and full of a tease. Her tail whipped around and one more time she caressed at his face with the soft fur there before she darted away toward the lake, leaving behind a wake of effervescent bubbles that drifted through the air and lingered on the surface of the mire.

He knew, instinctively, that she would be back at some point. A part of him wanted to pursue her, find her in the lake and dance with her there, but somehow he knew that she would rebuff him there. The lake was her domain, and now that the edge was taken off her hunger, she would again dance for visitors and drive off any invaders. She couldn't let him get the upper hand there.

The hunger was still there in her eyes, it had not been fully satisfied. Though his seed now filled her belly, he knew that nothing would come of it, which meant that she would come back for more in time. Here, in the swamps, here in his domain, where they were safe from prying eyes, where they could engage in their unusual courtship. Where he could dance and satisfy his mate.

A flicker of movement caught his attention, and he whipped his head around to see a furred figure lurking along the side of the muck. A canyne - Steel. He had forgotten about his companion and suddenly felt bad for it, and rushed over, tried to call out, but his voice only produced a low, rumbling sound. He couldn't call forth the words. For a brief moment, too, his friend seemed to recoil, but somehow there was a flash of recognition. Daro leaned in and touched his nose lightly to his companion's flank. Steel flinched, briefly, before visibly relaxing, leaning in and nuzzling back with a soft whimper.

It was all something that would take some time to get used to. He nuzzled at his companion a moment longer, unsure of what to do, but at least the fear seemed to have passed. Looking tired, confused but at least momentarily content, Steel turned and loped over to a dry spot among a few trees, settling himself down and curling up for what had to have been a much needed rest.

He thought briefly about the village and the caravans, and what had become of them. Had they been eaten by the Almudron that was here before? Had it even existed, or was it some kind of trick? Perhaps, at some point, he might venture out into the oasis and remove the dilapidated wagons, clean the place up a little, and maybe the caravans would start to pass through again.

If his mate let him, of course. Once more his thoughts turned to her. In his mind's eye he could see her dancing across the waters, lithe and elegant, beautiful and alluring. It made concerns like the fate of faraway villages seem so petty and irrelevant. With a sigh and a groan he let himself relax down in the mud, feeling the muck part around his scales and let him sink in until just his head was exposed, a few of the ridges along his back and his tail breaking the surface of the water. The cool mud felt good against his scales, and he relaxed.

Later, perhaps, he would have to think about what had happened. For now, he just let warm thoughts and images of the Mizu dance in his head and the cool waters of the swamp caress his scales until he drifted into a much needed nap of his own.