Netherwing Swamp was an apt name for these wetlands which were dotted here and there with poisonous pools whose inhabitants slithered just underneath the surface, waiting for the unsuspecting traveler foolish enough to come close.
In their case, that foolish traveler was Jaybird.
More than once, Black Howler had to drag his self-styled apprentice back to keep one of the tentacles that slithered out of the pools from taking hold of him and dragging him back down to whatever monster was hidden in its depths.
"Damn, it stinks here," Bulldog Alfie complained.
He'd pulled his hood up to keep the extra-large mosquitos from snacking on his face.
"Wish this game had a mosquito repellant in the stores," he sighed.
"You and me both," Lyghtning agreed.
Greetings, fellow reapers!
I promise, I'm not trying to prolong this short hunting arc but I think the descriptions of Netherwing Marsh got away from me while I was writing -- meaning this tale's end will have to wait for the next chapter which will be our milestone 100th chapter that I am currently in the midst of writing.
That said, thanks for all the awesome support you've provided the book this week. I'll write more chapters next week. Double releases will be back too! :D