The bog is dank. Warped trees slump over icy mud and small, scrubby clots of grass. Reeds, jut out of the ground like teeth, threatening to pierce through the soles of your boots. The air is heavy with the smell of decay. Here and there, the snow is stained a dirty rust, mingling with the tumbled wet earth underneath it.

“I do NOT like this.” Halpra states emphatically. You agree. There’s a feeling of dark anticipation in the air. She surveys the landscape for a moment, then turns to both of you. “We could follow the edge of the creek towards Mossden.”

Roth points at the uneven landscape, steep drops, and loose rocks. “Look at the footing Halpra, it’s a mess. We’re seriously risking a twisted ankle or fall into the creek. I desire neither.”

“Then we could also go inland a little, deeper into the woods. The footing might be steadier, but without the creek to guide us, we could get lost.”