I stomp every damn foot out of that mud-soaked swamp of nothingness.
I lose my shoes.
With each step, life creeps up on me. There are reeds encroaching on the mud and the patches of sucking mud start to become pools of water stood on slightly more solid mud. The pools start to connect and the reeds grow so that they obscure my vision in every direction, including behind me. Which is odd but appropriately dreamlike.
Then the odd blasted, half-grown shrub becomes a stand of greener, healthier small trees. Some of them have branches that hang down to what might be considered clean running water. I use the branches to pull myself from the mud. I use the roots to provide a less slippery path.
I'm on grass. The ground beneath it is still wet and holds on to my now bare feet but I no longer sink. I am no longer in danger of losing all my energy and curling up to cry. I don't cry. I haven't cried since I was a child. Only losers cry. I am not a loser.
I have won.
"And you'll all pay for putting me through this," I mutter as I look behind me at the way I've come.
Only a few of my footprints remain in the mud I can see through the sea of reeds. The rest have collapsed back, not even dimples on the soggy surface. The only thing that shows the horror I have been through is the mud starting to dry on every inch of me and my clothes. I would clean myself off in the water but the bank and the ground under the trees is still too soaked to not leave mud stains on me or my clothes.
I walk on, following the ridge of higher ground.
Of course, I have no idea where I'm supposed to be going. The only direction I've had since falling into the overly large muddy puddle is "out of it". Now I'm out of the swamp, I don't know if I'm on the right side for anything I need to achieve, whether that's finding the corpse of the wizard's late wife, interrogating her replacement or strangling the inhuman guide who led me into all of this shit. Which is a very good point.
"Where are you, you monstrosity?" I yell.
Birds I didn't realise were there burst from trees around me, calling out about something that's bothering their tiny brains.
"How am I supposed to get home if you're hiding?" I yell for good measure.
I get nothing back at all back this time, not even an echo.
And then, from somewhere, there is the sound of heavy breathing. Sniffing. So loud that it seems to be right on top of me and everywhere at once. I drop to the floor and hold my breath. Those posh panda boys have found me again.