Not two days later, Judd used his reforged and freshly sharpened sword to cut down vines blocking his way. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d had to do so and his right arm was aching with an infernal pain. He switched to his left and wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

“Remind me again, whose stupid idea it was to cut through the mangrove swamp?” He panted and looked behind himself. Aalis had tied her dreadlocks into a knot on the top of her head like someone had left a bundle of snakes upon her crown and blotted at her skin with a cloth.

“From what my poor, addled brain can recall, we did put it to a vote.” She admitted and drank from her canteen. “Verne?”

He accepted the water and gulped it down, his jagged black hair lank and limp, the bandana around his forehead catching all the sweat.

“We need to take it easy on the water,” he huffed, “unless we want to risk drinking that…” He pointed to the water and they all shuddered.

The mangrove swamp lived up to its name. Sprawling trees with branches as tangled and unruly as their roots made their home in the drenched, sodden and muddy ground of the eastern border of the continent. The only solid ground that could be counted upon were the roots of the trees. Thick scum, water moss and floating masses of gathered debris all pretended to be safe to walk on and they had all made the mistake of assuming they had solid footing and ending up knee deep and soaked.

And as if it was not hard enough to find solid ground to make any progress, vines hung from the mangroves, some as thick as Judd’s arms and all seemed to have a life of their own, attempting to hamper their march without mercy. Adding insult to injury, the flying insects were driving them mad. Mosquitos, moths, flies and dragonflies buzzed about incessantly so that the mangrove swamp seemed to hum, frogs adding their own mellow burps to the melody.

Judd eyed the water near where he was standing and shuddered.

“I think we just need to press on…”

“That’s what you said two hours ago.” Caste snapped from behind them, staggering from the weight of his pack, slipping sideways, cursing his soaked socks and drenched boots. “I told you shortcuts never a good idea but did you listen to the cleric who was assigned to you?”

Judd moaned and wiped his face down again. “You’re negative about everything! How can I possibly take anything you say seriously?”

“I’m serious about everything!” Caste missed his footing and banged his knee, whimpering as he flicked his hands free of the sludge they were coated in. “You are going to be the death of me!”

Judd sighed and looked at Verne, removing his swag. Verne took it and Judd wrestled Caste’s pack off his back.

“No, no! I am a cleric of the Order of the Grail and I have been entrusted with the knowledge and wisdom…oh fine…carry the damn pack!”

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“Look, if we put some speed into our steps, we’ll be out of this wretched swamp by nightfall.” Judd lugged the pack onto his back, staggering at the weight of it. “How in Terra have you been carrying this?”

Aalis followed him as he continued to lead the way. “Perhaps, if we are fortunate enough to win a sizeable purse at Fort Bastil, we could purchase a pony to carry our supplies?”

“We should probably replenish all the herbs and medicinal supplies you’ve used up since joining the party,” Judd added then looked at Verne, “a new bow for you and maybe arrows?”

“I can make my own arrows,” Verne said sternly then paused, “although…they are a pain in the…”

“Before you spend any and all our fantasy money on your wish list,” Caste grunted, “I would like to request one thing.”

“What is that?”

They all turned back to Caste who was hunting in the swamp water, balancing on one leg. Finally he found what he was looking for and dragged a mud encased boot out of the murkiness.

“Boots that fit!”

“Done.” Judd nodded. “As soon as we find a cobbler I swear we’ll…did anyone else hear that?”

“What? The buzzing? Flapping? Croaking?”

“It was a child’s cry…” Aalis whispered. “I thought I heard it too.”

They remained still, holding their breaths until another shriek reached their ears.

“This way!” Judd cried and bolted through the swamp.

“Are you mad? It could be sirens! A harpy! A lost cat!” Caste moaned and tried to keep up with just one boot on, refusing to let go of his muddied footwear.

Judd swiped and hacked at the vines hanging in front of him, trying to keep him from the girl whose cries of fright were coming closer and closer. They were going deeper and deeper into the mangrove swamp and the solid ground was in a losing battle to the large expanses of green water. He ripped down a barrier of tangled branches, leaves and vines and spied a girl in tattered clothing, caught in a net, suspended high above the ground. She wrestled with the net, her thin arms and legs tangled in the weave of the netting.

“We’re here to help!” Judd called out to her and she recoiled from his muddy party as best she could in her net. “Hold still! Verne, can you break the rope holding her up?”

Verne slid an arrow into his bow, lifted it, drew back the string and fired, the arrow going wide.

“Sorry, damn sweat…” He scrubbed at his eyes.

“We could just cut the rope from where it is tied,” Aalis suggested then tapped the trunk of a mangrove, “right here…”

Judd grinned at her and held out the sword. “You cut, I’ll catch.”

He braced himself beneath the net as Aalis heaved the sword up, raking it across where the rope of the net was tied. The girl gave a small scream, plummeting to the ground then landed in Judd’s arms. Immediately she began to fight and wrestle and kick, flailing her arms wildly.

“Hold on, just…hold oof!” Her heel connected with his jaw and Judd stumbled backwards, tripping over a root and tumbling into the green water, disturbing the lily pads and sending waves of green moss surging.

“Judd!”

“I’m alright. It’s not deep.” He waved his hand. “Watch out, she’s stronger than she looks!”

The girl fought her way free of the net and Aalis studied her with interest. Her skin was stained with the colours of the mangrove swamp, browns, greens and even a little yellow. Her eyes were wide and her hair was wild and matted. Her body was clad in clothing made from leaves stitched together and reeds. She lurched backwards from them, her big eyes watching them in terror.

“We are not going to hurt you.” Aalis said as gently as she could. “We just…”

She took off without warning. Judd sloshed through the water and clambered onto the ground, Verne gathering the net into his hands.

“Come on,” he ordered, running in the direction that the girl went, “we can’t lose sight of her!”

“Judd, use your miniscule brain and think!” Caste cried. “She could be leading you anywhere or nowhere!”

“But I bet she came from a village and that’s got to be better than this mangrove swamp.”

Caste blinked. “What are you waiting for? Chase her!”