Swamp Thing Joins the Marsh Horses for a Spell
These horses aren’t nearly as skittish as the animals on the mainland. Or maybe they just see me
as a giant lump of grass. They let me follow them onto the thinnest slices of marsh jutting out
into the Pass without shaking their manes or giving a single grunt. There’s nothing but peace in
this herd with the sun warming our backs and a thin breeze coming off the water. They eat while
there’s eating to do. And they move along when the land’s cleared. No need to save anything.
Nothing to run away from, nor toward. No worry about the smell of rain.
