Writings

PROLOGUE The darkness seemed to thicken as the young man ventured closer to his destination and probable death. The night colored dirt coated his thick leather boots and pants as he trudged relentlessly through the swamp. The place reeked of rotten flesh and blood, but by now the young man had become accustomed the putrid stench. The water around him was the color of mucus, probably close to the same viscosity as well. A bubble of rancid gas rose to the surface and broke, splashing the foul liquid all over the front of the already filthy young man. Yet he didn’t seem to notice, and if he did he showed no sign of caring. He walked on through the muck as an inhuman screech sounded as cold and clear as a whistle, echoing through the swamp. This did not bug the young man however, for sounds like this were heard often in this swamp. He did however unsheathe his silver dagger just in case. He wiped it on his shirt to clean the blade, but with the mud coated on his shirt it only worsened the