Brother, Brother, Where Art Thou?

The swamp was haunting in the spring, the warmer air setting off a dank smell and steam. The fog that settled was low hanging and thick, easy to see over should one be tall enough to break through the barrier. Carthage was lucky enough to rise up through the thick air, able to breathe cleaner oxygen if it weren't for the foul smell making him wish he was breathing anything else. He thought he was alone at first, slowly moving through the swamp and carefully placing each step so he wouldn't fall through the thick marshy spots. He almost did once, and was quick to jet out of the way before sinking too deep. His paw was soaked now, but it was better than the lot of him.

The stench of the place had him fooled, for when the woman called out, he jerked his head sharply to the side and saw a faint silhouette of the black woman in the fog. Unaware it was Cordelia, the fur on the nape of his neck rose as he peered at the woman. He wondered what anyone else would be doing out here, and what exactly they were doing, too. He was just wandering, so maybe they were too. Carthage was curious, but not so much so that he wanted to investigate. Instead, he left it up to them to decide, should they notice him anyway.