For what felt like the billionth time Hazel suddenly found herself up to her chest in mud. She cursed vainly into the muck as she tried to haul herself backwards out of the mire, but it was all for naught. Every attempt at prying herself free elicited a lovely wet fart sound from around her legs that she was sure paired wonderfully with her upturned ass. It was, in other words, quite the predicament that any would be delighted to lay eyes on but pay handsomely not be part of themselves.

Unable to pull herself up Hazel got the bright idea to do the next best thing. She heaved herself, stiff-legged, over onto her side and was pleased when she felt her legs glop to the surface. From there it was only a matter of wiggling to freedom, which she did all the while imagining the scene was probably a lot like the birth of some sort of strange mud creature. It was her only consolation during the whole wriggle to freedom ordeal.

Finally free, she got to her paws only to discover that somewhere in the wriggling she'd lost track of where the mud was, which meant she was going to have to feel around again. Finding that prospect wholly unappealing, Hazel remained motionless, her blind gaze pointed angrily at the earth, as she tried to decide what to do.

He had come to the Delta for two reasons, one, he loved the ocean, and this offered a few interesting twists to explore, both with ocean and land. And two, to hunt for interesting fish for Hana. the scent of fresh and saltwater creatures was strong, and he knew he was bound to come away with something. He was trotting along one of the sandy shore lines, when he was greeted with the strangest sight. At first, he simply had to stop in his tracks, and watch. the sounds alone would have sent anyone under 6 months peeling into uncontrollable laughter. Mortis managed to stifle any such inclination - mostly with the help of bewilderment. As he watched the brown-cream girl managed to pull herself free with a last big slurp. Next, she stood there and… well… stood there. Unmoving. Freeing himself from his trance, the young boy came closer, peering at her and trying to determine if she was supposed to be brown, white, or some other tone under all that mud. Whatever she was, she was tiny like, baby tadpole kind of tiny. “Miss, are you okay?” "Mortis"

As she stood there debating what to do a voice came to her across the mire. She lifted her head and turned sightless eyes in the stranger's direction. The voice was strong but lacked the timbre of maturity. Wherever he was coming from it didn't sound like he was struggling with the mud like she had as she could hear his soft rhythm steps and able to note the ease with which they fell. Oh to be sighted in a quag of mire. If there was ever a time to allow herself some envy now was it.

"I suppose," she mused saucily after a moment's thought. "That depends on your definition of 'okay'." She lifted one of her front paws as though examining it and let a thick chunk of mud slide free from her toes before setting it back down. "I'm alive and in good health, but covered in mud and lost in a swamp." It occurred to her then that she may have lost her bracelets in the muck. Alarm spread across her face and Hazel quickly reached down to feel each ankle. After a second of digging around in the caked on muck she made out the bracelet of one and then the other, and then sighed audibly in relief. "That could have been bad, so yes, I'll call this," she made a circle with her paw indicating the situation as a whole, "Okay after all."

He watched as her little head tilted upwards, seeking him out. He would realise then, looking into her sightless eyes, that she was blind. He’d never met a blind wolf before. Well, except for Magnus, but that had been temporary. His uncle had needed help getting around for a while, and had sometimes used Mortis as a guide. Maybe this tiny creature needed that kind of help, too? The winged heir snickered softly at her words, as she lifted a paw and shook it, as through to hammer home the point. For a blind wolf stuck in the mud, her disposition wasn’t sour. When she seemed to prickle with alarm, Mortis went alert. Like electricity going through his body as he stood rigid, wings going up. Where was the threat? He would deal with it, he would protect her-- er, oh. She fished out a bracelet, and then another. Oops. not a danger then. The winged wolf leaned forward, and gently brushed a wing against her side. “here, you can lean on my wing and i’ll help lead you out” He offered "Mortis"

Hazel continued to shake her bracelets in the hopes that one or both bells would ring and signal they were clean enough...and then it occurred to her, after several seconds of shaking, that the gesture was meaningless. Even if the bracelets were clear the rest of her was not and wouldn't be for the time being. She stopped shaking them and wordlessly slid each messy bracelet onto her still messy wrists. For now that would do.

Wing? Hazel blinked rapidly, unsure of what she was hearing. "Your...wing?" When something - presumably a wing - brushed against her side Hazel's curiosity took over. She wasn't well mannered to begin with but couple that with curiosity and you got a very nosy, very blind wolf feeling you up. Which is exactly what was going to happen unless Mortis stepped away from her.

Hazel lifted a paw and sought to brush it over top of the offered wing. It did feel wing shaped. She ducked under it and started to feel along the underside. Yes, this was a wing. How weird. What sorcery could give a wolf wings? Hazel was mystified and her predicament in the mud was forgotten. Any second now she was liable to fall back into the mire but she was too fascinated by this biological oddity to care. "What magic is this?"

"I dont know how to answer that" he admitted as she felt along his wing, getting her nose into the base of his feathers. He stiffled a giggle as she tickled the tender under parts of the appendage. Using her interest in his wing to steer her, he tried to lead her a few safer steps back from the sticker mud patch.

What was magic, anyway? It wasn't a word he had heard thrown around often. He had heard it to describe beautiful things, things that surprised or pleased the eye. Is that what she meant? Well... not pleasing to her EYES of course.

He shrugged, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't see. Through maybe she could feel it through the shiver of his wing. "Uhh.. My da has a theory. Where you here when the volcano erupted? Dad said it put out ash that coated most of the world for a long time. Everything was buried in ash. Prey was harder to come by, because the good grass was buried. Anyway, dad says that after that the next born litters - not just his - came out weird. You know? wings, serpant tongues, bear shaped paws." He shrugged again, nonchalant. For him it was just the way of life. Not some strange oddity that needed a reason. "Why are you in a bog, Anyway?"