Bab 95: The Black Cat, Part Thirty

They continued on, the setting sun casting long, gnarled shadows that seemed to reach out and grab at their heels.

Zenith's pace was brisk, her jaw set in a firm line as she led the ragtag band onward. The meager rewards of their previous victory had only fueled her growing sense of urgency. They needed to move on, to face the next challenge before the cloak of night fell upon them.

As they reached the top of a small hill, they were hit by a strong, unpleasant smell. It was the smell of stagnant water and decaying vegetation. Zenith wrinkled her nose in disgust as she looked around.

A large, dark swamp stretched out as far as she could see. The still water reflected the light from the setting sun like a sheet of tarnished mirrors. Gnarled trees jutted from the mire, their twisted branches reaching up to the sky as if in silent anguish. Here and there, plumes of green mist seeped from the marsh, curling and writhing like ghostly serpents.