>>6345895I roll my shoulders and proceed deeper into the mire. A structure may yet remain well enough above the muck for me to recover another pot, as I still haven't replaced mine since my last camp was accosted by those gibbering boys, stablehands by the looks of them, with the blood all over their shirts... And their mouths, and necks... They crept on all fours like animals, stinking of carrion. I wonder to myself, even now, whether they were undead wights of some manner, or madder and hungrier than I am but no less alive. I wonder momentarily if they were even really there, or just a nightmare that's blurred into waking recollection, perhaps another trick of my mind.
Either way, I am without a means of boiling water or preparing food.
Catching crabs in the marsh is a simple matter, but without boiling them first, their meat is hardly nutritious and difficult to consume in large quantities, even for me.
Maybe what's left of this village will have a pot for me... Maybe wood dry enough to burn, or even a lantern.
