Author's Note: This one I am giving a warning beforehand. THIS STORY IS GRAPHIC. It is solidly in the horror genre. I used this, uh, piece of work to adopt Lantanis, a swamp fury from NightmareRebuff. As always, this dragon can be seen in my (Frostfire Markson) signature on the School of Dragon's forum.
"Hey, you two, cut it out!" I laughed, doubling over as the two mini furies chased each other around my shoulders, tickling my neck. I was twitching as their tiny paws scrabbled across my back, and I did my best not throw them off.
"Want some help?" Braggart grinned, pulling both off by the scruffs of their necks, to which they both mewed in protest. I then received Legato from his right hand, and we both held a mini fury in our arms as we looked back out on the swamp.
"This environment is very dense and hard to navigate. Very few have seen the dragons within, except for us natives." I looked over at our guide, a slim, dark-skinned man slowly pushing our barge along with his long pole. "You must be careful, as many species here are just as harsh as the environment." We both nodded, and I giggled as Sliplock tried to bury himself in Braggart's vest, only succeeding in creating massive stains.
"This was my favorite vest! You little blob." He glared at the large, gelatinous eyes, which were full of remorse. "Oh, no you don't!" As he tried to jump out of his arms, Braggart held tight, chuckling. "We're not losing you this early on."
Legato gave a quick mimic of the chuckle, wriggling out of my arms to perch on my shoulders. The sound bounced off the smooth-barked trees, and he started to truly sing, his voice thrumming through the air and bouncing off the acoustic-happy plants. I hummed along, sinking to sit on the raft as I paged through my personal Book of Dragons. The well-worn, earmarked manual had many leaves sticking out of various pages, scribbles and notes on others, and various pieces of evidence of rare and exotic species shoved in. It was without a doubt the most complete and up-to-date manual on dragons. But of course, Hiccup and I had a little rivalry going with that. I was going on my own exploration trips as often as I could to stay ahead of his own discoveries- though he was more focused on the mapping aspect of exploring than the actual dragons. There were a few dragons that I knew of as swamp dwellers, but Mudlappers and Whipfangs were hardly anything to scoff at, with as common as they were. I wanted to get deep into the heart of this reclusive swamp, and see what no vikings had seen before.
I heard Sliplock's watery whistle of alarm and Braggart's shout before feeling the barge jolt in the water. The guide called out something in another language- possibly a prayer, or more likely, a curse. He tapped his pole around, but seemed highly dissatisfied. "We've struck a root. We're going to be stuck here until we can free it, or until the water rises in a few hours." I was disappointed. I wanted to go deeper in, but I supposed it could be worse- at least the raft wasn't sinking. I would be willing to wait for now. The guide, on the other hand, was looking quite jumpy. He looked at the sunlight through the dense canopy of mangrove trees. "It will be dark before the water rises, and we'll need to keep watch for some rather, um, pretentious and nasty sets of fangs, to put it nicely."
I wasn't as bothered as the guide, but he knew more about this area than we did. Also believes more superstitions than I do. I chuckled, ruffling Legato's ears. Dragons were dragons, and most didn't truly have to be feared. And if we got into a tight spot, I could probably find some friendly Mudlappers to help us out or at least shelter us in their burrows. Such sweet-natured dragons, they are the good samaritans of the animal kingdom. Other than dragons, I didn't fear much. Ghosts weren't real, and as long as you were cautious, mother nature could only really through horrid weather at you.
"I'll take first watch." The guide looked relieved as Braggart volunteered. I cocked an eyebrow, but he just patted Sliplock's skin, and mouthed "poor eyesight". I nodded, knowing he preferred to have me and Legato alert for when it would be truly dark, and when it would truly count. A few hours later, I was sitting on the edge of the barge as Legato snuffled around near the water. Small clusters of fireflies floated around clusters of phosphorescent moss. It was actually rather peaceful, set to the sounds of Whipfang warbles in the distance and the soft susurrations of wind in the drapes of hanging plants. It was so peaceful…
As the sun rose, I stretched, having actually enjoyed my night on the barge. We were drifting gently on the currents, occasionally glancing off the trunks of trees as they shepherded us along into the swamp. I stretched, disturbing Legato who was snoozing peacefully on my chest. He mumbled out a low croon, but otherwise kept quiet as I sat up, switching him to my arms. The guide was curled in a ball around his precious pole on the rear, while Braggart and Sliplock were sprawled out in a heap next to me, snoring gently.
I smiled gently, amused and happy to see they at least were able to relax. I dangled my feet off the edge into the water, which was clearer here than where we were stuck before. It was cooler too. We must have drifted right into the center of the current during the night. Far below, I could see creatures stirring, and I gasped as a group of Mudlappers surfaced around the barge, spraying some water out of their nostrils. The light tans and greens of their fur glistened with water and reflected light. A large one drifter closer, and I switched to lay on my stomach, reaching out and stroking the top of his smooth head. He hummed, and the entire pod started to swirl and play as their alpha was content. A few minutes into this display of trust, the rest of my companions woke up, and we smiled to watch them. Braggart stretched, smiling. "So, where are we now, Ms. Navigator? Obviously the raft came free while you were on watch."
I started. "Um… I don't know. I was watching, and we were still stuck, but…"
"But what, Frost." His voice was harsh, like it always was when he knew that I had slipped up.
"Um, it was really soothing and I fell asleep and we drifted off? But it's okay. We're not in any danger here. The Mudlappers would let us know if anything were amiss." I went to point them out, but they were gone.
"This is very bad. We are in the center of the swamp."
"Huh?" I turned to the guide. "No, that's good. That's where we wanted to be."
His voice got higher in tone, and Legato shivered on my shoulder, finally awake. "This is the cursed land. We should not have come here." He pointed out to where the banks were just visible of small, swampy islands. "There is bad magic here. It will curse us too." I shaded my eyes as I peered into the shadows, just making out figures. Twisted, uneven, and irregular structures lined the edge, bristling with moss, sticks, and other objects, standing a nerve-rattling sentry. "Those show this belongs to the creature. It will be very angry. We must leave now." He trotted to the edge, submerging his pole and trying to steer us into another tributary. But the harder he struggled, the less it seemed to do. Our barge drifted towards the towers, and eventually beached directly in front of them. This just made the guide fly into an all-out panic, shoving his pole against the ground and pushing with all his might. I glanced at Braggart, and saw my own spook being reflected in his eyes. It was starting to get to us. We joined him, and finally managed to free us from the soft muck with a loud *shloop!*, sending us careening in the opposite direction and flat on our backs on the deck. We had no time to scramble back up before the raft slammed headfirst into another tree, snapping several of the top boards. The second impact tossed us off, into the murk below. We surfaced, gasping, and with Braggart valiantly holding Sliplock above the water in his helmet. We turned to the barge, but it was gone. Whether it had sunk, come apart, or floated off I had no clue, but it just wasn't there.
"Frost, I can't tread water forever, here!" I turned to him, seeing him struggling with the panicking slime fury. I stroked over, taking the helm myself and stroking over to the nearest swamp island. I hauled myself through the sludge at its edge before collapsing on the relatively dry and solid top, thankful for this at least not being the open ocean. I was quickly joined by Braggart and the guide, who was mumbling vaque words the whole while.
"So, beautiful reactions everyone. A+ effort." I rung out my braid, sarcasm taking over.
"It's not like you did any better."
"At least I was more helpful than Ghost Story over there." I jerked a thumb at the now-kneeling guide who was seeming to have some sort of reaction to the sheer presence of the totem things.
Braggart let out a hysterical laugh. "This is perfect! Why did we leave the dragons behind, again?"
"Because they wouldn't fit on the barge and the trees make it impossible to fly here."
"So perfect!" He ran his hands through his dripping hair, kicking at the sod beneath his feet.
"It's fine. We'll just find some Mudlappers, and they can swim us out of here. They love to be helpful."
Now the guide finally snapped out of his rut. "No! I told you! This is cursed land! The others DO NOT COME HERE! We are now trapped forever, doomed to become one of THOSE!" He jabbed at one of the towers, fear raw and almost ruled out with repulsion.
I walked closer, but not so close as to touch one. They were vaguely coffin shaped, and they could easily fit a human inside... I shivered. I counted up the towers. "7... 10.. 13.. 29..." I gave up, marveling at the pure amount. My voice quavered, and Legato clung tighter, sensing my unease. "How, exactly, do the myths say we become one of those?"
"The monster comes out of the water at night, and he buries us in swamp mud, and then slowly sucks out our moisture through our heads, and then he buries our heads and decorates our corpeses to add to his garden of DEATH!" He descended once more into inarticulate manic panic, curling into a small ball on the ground.
"Frost.. That gives us the rest of the day to figure something out." I turned to look at him, clutching Sliplock to his head and still dripping swamp ooze. I merely nodded. Most myths had some grain of truth to them, and I wasn't about to find out which parts of this were true.
"There's plenty of trees, we can build a raft. Or we can swim. I'm sure if we work our way back some, we can find those Mudlappers again once we're free of... this place." I shivered, unnerved by the pause in my own voice.
"Well, that current was strong. Strong enough that he" he jerked a thumb at the huddled pile of tears, "couldn't over come it, so I think swimming is out. And how would we make a raft? There are trees, but trees don't exactly come pre-cut, and we don't exactly have rope. Not to mention, a raft didn't get us out of here in the first place." His poor attitude really was grating on me.
"Well, sor-ry for trying to be helpful! What would you suggest!"
"I don't know!" We glared at each other before looking away again. We couldn't stand being mad at each other. It was rare, but our fights always made a rift, and we both hated them. "Why- why don't you send Legato to go find the Mudlappers? He could lead them back to get us, and then we could ride them out. They'd be strong enough, right?"
I nodded, unwilling to part with my close companion. I pulled him down from my shoulder, holding him like a small child at arm's length. His bright eyes glimmered, and I saw my own scared, filthy face reflected in them. "Legato, I love you, and I need you to do this for us. Go find the Mudlappers. Bring them here to get us." He warbled an unsure note, his ears falling. He knew what this meant. I was sending him off, possibly never to see him again. I hugged him close, not wanting to do this, but knowing it was my only choice. "I know you can do it. I trust you." He snuggled in close, and I knew we both didn't want to be parted. "I love you, my flannel boy." And I tossed him up, watching him flap off through the swamp. I whispered under my breath, "Be safe." I knew he would be at least better off than us.
Braggart and I spent the next several hours sitting back to back keeping watch. We stayed as silent as we could, both because we didn't want to talk about any of this, and also because we didn't want to draw any attention. Suddenly, Braggart stiffened against me. "Frost, Frost! Did you hear that?" I could hear his urgency, but had missed whatever he had heard. I was silent, straining to sharpen my ears. Suddenly, in the distance I heard a distinct splash, like something heavy dropping into the water from a good height. After a few minutes, it sounded again. This continued for countless spans of time, the two of us shivering against each other as we kept watch in opposite directions. I silently pleaded for Legato to find the Mudlappers and convince them to rescue us.
As the day wore on, Sliplock got braver, getting out of Braggart's arms and padding down to the edge of the swamp to paw at the strange substance that was almost similar to his own. The splashes eventually stopped, and relative silence once again filled the thick, oppressive air. I pulled an apple out of my satchel, wondering if the swamp water would have done anything to make it unedible. Deciding I didn't care as my chances looked bleak anyhows, I went to take a bite, only to have it snatched up by the guide. His eyes quivered and shook in lunacy and crazed fear. I said nothing, and would have left it go had Sliplock not tried to come to my rescue. He lept at the rude guide, knocking the apple and sending it rolling and bouncing down into the water. There it bobbed, caught in an eddy and remaining in the same part of the flow. I watched it's methodical movements, stroking the little green slime fury who now was sitting at my side. Slowly, I noticed that the apple wasn't moving just with the eddy… it was moving as if being pushed from below. Sliplock crept down to the edge, slowly cautiously. I hissed his name under my breath, but he either didn't hear or was intent on ignoring me. He gazed at it, leaning slightly forward on his four paws. Suddenly, a figure exploded from the water, gripping Sliplock and pulling him down! Braggart and I leapt to the edge, gathering whatever we could grab and pulling. I felt slime give way under my fingers, and in horror I held tighter, not wanting to lose one of my dragons in such a horrid manner. We heaved backwards- and a few small clumps of slime came tumbling on top of us. In my haste I started shoving it together, not caring how much dirt was trapped in between. It sat their, wiggling slightly from our touches, but otherwise unmoving. I looked away, sure of the worst. I glanced discreetly to Braggart, who had the same expression in his eyes of despair. We sat down once more, back to back. Now fully dragonless and my apple gone, I could truly do nothing but wait- either for some horrid death or for hope in the form of Legato.
I must have nodded off somewhere in that long, stressful night because the next thing I knew, I was stiff and dry, leaning on Braggart's thin back. Scant light was just starting to appear off to our right, signaling the approaching dawn. I smirked tiredly, my voice cracking from disuse. "It seems our guide was more fiction than fact." Braggart didn't respond, but I could feel his twitching muscles through our backs, and I knew he was holding back nervous laughter and relief. I turned to look at our guide, but he was gone- only his pole lying on the ground. I sucked in a breath. That pole had been his one piece of solace since first getting here. He had told us that such a tool could mean life or death in this harsh environment. Well, apparently it meant death this time. I poked Braggart, nodding over towards the pole. His eyes widened, but he stayed silent.
"Le-let's switch directions…" I threw my aching joints into action, managing to stand up with some slight struggling. He stood up as well, and we turned, now looking at each other's portion of the swamp from yesterday. I was almost sorry that I had spoken at all. Before, I could watch for Legato, and peer down further into the open waters of the swamp. Now, I could only see the tiny mounded islands bordering the channel, dotted every direction with the mud totems. Each one looked sinister in the rising light as they groped towards unseen objects in the air. I tried to only gaze at them, without really looking, but they drew you in and compelled you to wonder who they had once been. What poor soul was locked within that rock-like tomb? Slowly, spectres of the mind started to overwhelm me, and I wondered how Braggart hadn't gone mad staring at them for so many hours.
As my mind swirled with thoughts of bloody murders and savage maulings, my fevered brain started to notice a small sparkle on one of the totems. I tilted my head, trying to get my brain to function. I slowly stood up, walking towards it. Braggart spun around in alarm, anxiously whispering my name. "Frost! Frost, where are you going?!" But I said nothing, pulled forward by a force as strong as iron chains, splashing across one of the shallow channels between the islands.
Slowly, I reached up, stretching for the glint of gold on the top of one of the totems. My fingers were less than an inch away from brushing its metallic surface when I was tackled to the ground by Braggart. "Frost! Have you lost your mind?! What are you doing?!" I shook my head, the trance broken. Braggart was shivering in rage and fear.
"I- I know this." I turned to look at it, but he yanked my chin back to face him.
"No. We're not messing with this stuff. Legato will be back soon. Then we'll go home and all this spooky voodoo magic stuff will be over."
"Bu- but..." My mind was swirling again, confusing itself. I struggled, but Braggart held me tight, pinning me to the ground.
"Frost." He hissed my name like a snake. "We can't mess with this. I know what those things do. They confuse you. But you need to fight it." His voice turned into a whining plead. He knew he was losing me, just as much as I was losing me. I stopped struggling, and his grip started to loosen. Then suddenly I snapped my body up against his, shifting him enough for me to get out from under him for a second.
Braggart rolled off me, disgusted. Whether with himself for letting me go or with me for still acting crazy, I couldn't tell. I stood up, not bothering to brush myself off. I reached up, stroking the metal. It was a small, smoothed triangle, poking out of the mud. I put my fingers on it, starting to pull, but it didn't budge. Determined, I started scratching at the still-damp mud around it, slowly crumbling this lump on the totem.
Braggart came over, his back to me as he kept a lookout, glancing over every once in a while with an irritated look on his face. When my nails reached something solid, I changed direction, working to free this object from the structure. After turning a corner, I managed to get my fingers under it, and started trying to pull it again. When I couldn't Braggart sighed, coming over to it himself. "Move over. I'll get it."
I slid over, silent and emotionless. With a few sharp tugs he had it free, causing a mini landslide of not-yet-solid mud and clay. He handed it over, and I instantly knew I was right. I shivered, my voice less than a whisper. "It's my book."
He turned to look at me, scrutinizing me. "What do you mean?"
My eyes were wide in fear as my fingers shook, repulsed by the presence of my once-most-precious possession. I simply shook my head, unable to voice my fears. Not that I could. My throat was sealing up in raw panic, my pace quickening. I started to hyperventilate, and would have fallen face-first into the swamp waters had it not been for Braggart's quick reflexes.
"Now calm down. You're hurting yourself. What is it?" His voice was firm and harsh. I struggled back to it; tried to let it be my anchor in this swirl of sheer terror. I let out a small moan, resting my head on my knees for a minute before taking a few deep gulps of air. I held the book up, my hand shaking so badly that the book was wobbling around like it sat on the head of a pin.
"I-It was o-open. Pa- page .. fif-fifty thr-three-ee." My slight sobs and deep breaths still rocked my body as he tried to pry the now-closed swamp-soaked pages apart. It tore in his hands as he ripped his way to the center, but it didn't matter. As long as most of the page were intact, he would soon know.
"Lantanis Swamp Fury." His voice was puzzled as he read it in otherwise even tones. "Buries its victims. Extremely Dangerous. Kill on sight." He paused, turning to question me. His face was incredulous. "We're sure this is your book? You did away with all of that garbage."
I nodded, sniffling now. "It's mine. Keep reading." He needed to know.
"Survived Encounters: 1. So what? It's rare. ...Deadly encounters: … 341." His voice cracked. He started to twist and turn the torn edges, trying to find more information. "Where's the rest!?" He seemed frantic.
"There isn't." I had calmed down enough that my voice was now solid. "The only other thing shown was a very blurry sketch. That's all the survivor ever could add."
"But, we'll bump the survivals up to 3." He gave a nervous laugh that didn't fool me one second. "Le-legato will get back. He'll be here soon. So, um, let's just go si-" I stepped up, brushing some more dirt off the totem.
"Braggart, I don't think we're getting out of this one." I didn't need to say anything more. The husk within spoke volumes without making a sound. Braggart seemed to choke slightly for a minute before turning away. I followed, and we walked back to sit on the island back to back again. "He tried to use my book to protect himself. But it didn't matter. It got him anyway."
"..." Braggart was silent, before letting out a chilling thought. "Maybe he wasn't trying to help himself. Maybe he was trying to warn us. To let us know." My throat closed again as I thought of all the horrible thoughts I'd had about his cowardice and bad attitude. But he'd tried to warn us.
That night was the most drawn out experience in my life. I waited, knowing that it would be back. And I was right. I wasn't sure if Braggart was still awake, but I doubted that he was asleep. In the distance I heard the splashes again, and slowly saw a pair of green glows disappear. I stiffened, reaching for Braggart's hand. He turned, staring out to where I had seen them. Slowly, we both stood up, the anxiety building. We wanted to at least give ourselves a chance of fighting this thing.
Suddenly, a plume of water erupted from our opposite sides! We pivoted, but the creature was too fast, already away out of sight. It continued this game, until we stood back to back once more, watching. Each of us had a hand on the guide's pole, holding it between us in case of defense. Suddenly, it revealed itself, sauntering up to grin at us smugly from an island across the channel. My heart stopped. This beast looked like a night fury, but its gaze held no curiosity, no warmth. They held only cold calculation and the strange glow of its night vision.
It gave a strange warbling, haunting howl before diving into the swamp water. It surfaced seconds later, slowly swimming across like a crocodile, unhurried and confident of its next meal. I let go of the pole. Braggart shook his head, trying to hand it to me, but I pushed it back. I knew no stick could defend me. I knew Braggart had the best chance of hurting it with his stronger frame and greater combat experience. His gaze hardened, and he stepped forward, holding the pole firmly in both hands. A few feet from the banks it paused, gazing at us malevolently. My pulse pounded in my ears. This was worse than gazing at the totems! My body started to kick into overdrive as the adrenaline rushed through me. The creature came forward, reaching the banks before leaping at us. I tried to dodge, but Braggart managed to block it with his pole. The creature's jaws locked around it, chewing. I gaped in horror, watching Braggart wave it around, beating it against one of the totems. The dragon finally fell, the pole shattering with a deafening crack. Braggart tossed one of the pieces at me, which in my state I fumbled with. Instantly the creature lunged, biting deep into my calf. I screamed, stabbing at it with my piece of the pole. The broken end bristled with splinters, impaling one of its wing fins and staking it to the ground. It let go, tearing itself off and leaping away to one of the totems. There it perched, snarling. Braggart snarled right back, standing over me like a lion over its kill.
The creature cocked its head, then sat, its ears going up like it was listening to us. "Oh come on you little monster! FIGHT ME!" Braggart's voice echoed off the swamp trees, but the dragon just flicked its ears, actually having the audacity to lay down on top of the totem, resting its head on its paws. Braggart's mind was overloaded with fear, adrenaline, and hatred for this creature. When its eyes closed, it was the last straw. He rushed forward, letting out a war cry and stabbing upwards. The creature was a blur as it instantaneously leapt backwards as its eyes sprung back open. Braggart continued to stab at the creature in its position on top of the totem. After several awkward strikes, it tip lodged into the mud- and whatever corpse was within- and refused to come free. Braggart's expression of rage bordered on madness as the creature took advantage of this opening. It catapulted itself at him, knocking him off the bank and into the muck at its edge. They wrestled, all flailing limbs and gnashing teeth as the muck coated the surrounding land. I heaved on my stick, managing to wiggle it free of the ground. Using it, I managed to stand enough to slide down the slight slope to the mud. The dragon was clamped on Braggart's shoulder, slowly chewing its way towards his neck and the precious artery within. Without thinking, I stabbed wildly. There was impact, and a screech of pain. The stick was torn from my grasp, and I saw the creature tumble backwards into the water. It rolled over, tearing at the stick in its now gushing left eye.
I floundered over to Braggart, who was lying groaning in the shallow water. "Darn creature got my good arm." His wry humor came out between gritted teeth.
"I- I hurt it. Quick, while it's busy, let's get out onto the shore again!" I was able to lean his good side against my shoulder, pushing him to a sitting position. But the muck was so thick, it held us like glue. We struggled, looking at the creature with its own problems as we frantically tried to stand. Using my as a lever, he heaved himself to a standing position while pushing me deeper in. I reached up, and he pulled with all his strength as I gasped. My bitten leg gave out just as he managed to get me up, and I leaned on his good right side. We tried to move further, but the mud churned beneath us was like concrete, holding us tight. Each move made us more solidly planted at the edge of safety.
Out of nowhere, a ball of mud shot into my torso, knocking the wind out of me. The beast was once more on the bank, its left eye a dark, gory mess that wept a strange glowing green substance down its scaled cheek. Using its paws and tail, it continued to shovel mud at us, slowly building a pile around our ankles. We struggled all the more as the weight pressed against our legs. It turned deepest black as it mixed with the blood that continued to leak from my leg. In my struggling to get free I lost my balance, collapsing backwards. My arms shot out to catch me, and I landed hard on my butt, my palms stuck in the muck.
Braggart tried to turn and help, but only succeeded in twisting around before collapsing himself as his balance overshot. There we laid, trapped and unable to work ourselves up to more than a sitting position as we were slowly coated in mud. It seemed there wouldn't be a totem for us- there would be a small hill, among all the other small hills in this swamp. The mud continued to pack down around us, working out the air gaps and compacting into a solid mass that prevented movement. Even breathing was starting to get harder. Suddenly, the barrage of mud stopped, and I opened my eyes. Braggart was staring back and me, and I knew we both understood what was coming.
The Lantanis Swamp Fury, the infamous creature from my book, sauntered over, her gaze cunning and smug. She slowly climbed on top of the pile of silt that coated us, savoring her victory. She came to around where my neck was, her front paws standing on either side of my ears. Slowly, she lowered her jaws to be just brushing mine, her tongue coming out and pushing its way into my mouth as her eyes watched me squirm and resist. Instantly some sort of substance that burned like fire seeped into my mouth and down my throat. I tried to close my jaw, but the strange liquid had also numbed my muscles- or maybe simply destroyed the nerve cells. I could hear Braggart shouting at the creature, but it didn't mean anything. I screamed in pain, the sound quickly mutating into a sob before being silenced as the liquid ate my vocal cords. I could feel it inside me- burning and numb at the same time, turning me into something else. The creature sat watching me writhe inside my casket of mud, before finally I started coughing up blood as it ate my lungs apart. My last three minutes dragged on in excruciating slowness even as my mind was in overdrive. I was choking- no, melting; dissolving. Just as my brain started to fade to black the creature made my last seconds even more horrific- It leaned in, inserted its tongue once more, and started to suck at the muddled liquids inside my body.
Braggart watched in horror as the creature ate at Frost like some kind of water spider from hell. He shouted and struggled, trying to somehow either break free or scare it off. If he could get out, maybe he could finish it- give Frostfire a proper burial. But it was no use, and soon the creature turned its attentions to him. It grimaced, its jaws coated in dripping, oozing blood and dissolved tissue. He didn't want to see, but his will died, compelled to see what it had done to his older sister. He instantly wished he hadn't looked. All that was left was a dried-out shell. The skin was intact, but the creature had sucked out all the moisture and dissolved organs through her mouth. Her jaw hung open in a silent scream, and her eyes stared at nothing.
He was in a state of shock, unable to think or move as the creature pulled up more silt from the bottom of the swamp, covering his sister's corpse completely. When it had coated her completely, it turned to him. Its hunger would very much be satisfied this night.
Legato returned early the next day, a pod of Mudlappers on his tail. He circled around the island where he had last seen his friends, but all he found as evidence was a pile of dried and hardened slime, a destroyed book, and a new, large totem. He howled his grief and confusion to the careless trees, unaware that the death count would now total 345.