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Coughing and retching, you haul your way out of the stinking bog and collapse upon the soft forest floor. For a few moments you lie there, unable to see through the mask of filth that hangs down in front of your eyes. Then, with the edge of your hand, you slowly scrape the slime from your face and look back at the threads of dark crimson blood which trace a marbled pattern against the green surface scum. They are testimony to your hard-won fight.
With the memory of your battle against the bog creature still vivid in your mind, you clamber to your feet and hurry along the track heading east.
