The Bog

[nodecisions]

After two days of sloshing through the bog, Nick felt like there was mud everywhere on him. All over his body, in his mouth, in his nose, between his toes, and in any other imaginable crack and cranny on his body. Ears, too, although the chill rain somehow helped those stay clear enough for hearing, or fear did. The same necessity that pushed them out here when all the other pathways had gotten cut off, one by one, and they had been cornered on the other side of this.

Now there was only them, the mire, the drizzle, and Cassie's gift guiding them along.

She'd said it would be long. He couldn't blame her for leading him into this unsuspecting. And it wasn't even the nastiest thing they'd run from Division through. Mud beat blood or sewage any day. But not days on end. Or something like that.

Even his eyelashes were in the dull gray of the place.

At the very beginning, he'd tried to keep most of it from them, Moving any that splatted up above their knees (anything below was deemed reasonable sacrifice). And then Cassie had taken a wrong turn and walked into some of the sticky stuff, the nasty deep one, and by the time he'd gotten her out, he had so little juice left that he had to stop wasting it on negligible things like hygiene. And then they'd had to sleep on the (wet sloshy) ground, and then trudge through hip-deep (on him) muddy water for a while, and by now it was a lost cause and they both admitted it.

And they both didn't enjoy it.

In an attempt to cheer them on, he did Move a bit of mud from the cyan streaks in her hair, and she gave him a wan, slush smile over her shoulder. Her hair was flattened by the rain and exhaustion. But it was still a spot of color.

There was mud even in their bread and cheese. They chewed stubbornly on it, anyway. She wasn't taking her sketchpad out, or it would get even soggier, but she kept leading in a mostly certain manner. Every time he asked, she said it was still clear. That was something, at least.

Late on the third evening, they reached the village on the other end. Small and shabby and half the first floor of the buildings was covered in the same gray ick as them, but higher on, they were clear. There was even a small hotel.

Their only requirement was a working shower.

There seemed to be exactly one room left that covered it. Neither of them had to look questioningly at the other, they took it and trudged weary up the stairs in the direction the sleepy receptionist pointed. It seemed the longest too floors up in his life.

They had locked the door behind them before they realized one room meant only one shower.

"Yeah, go first. I'll, uh, start unpacking things to start drying them."

"Cassie. Go on ahead, or the damn thing will end up drying on you and then it'll be even worse to wash off."

"And you won't have that problem?"

"Well... I'll survive."

"Nick!"

"Fine. Go in together?"

She frowned, making the silt caked on her forehead crack. She crossed her eyes up in its direction, then made an incoherent sound. "All right. I think that works."

Later, when they were finally dry, warm, mostly clean, and exhausted, curled together on the lumpy mattress, he stared at the calendar on the wall.

"Hmm?" Cassie's voice was almost asleep, as well as herself.

"Hm." He turned on the light without stirring a finger to look better. "You know... do you realize what yesterday was?"

"Muddy?"

He almost had the energy to snort at that. "Well. Besides that."

"I'm too tired for riddles, Nick."

"Your birthday."

"What?" She sat up, and he pointed towards the wall and the calendar there. "Shit."

"You realize what that means, too?"

"Ni-ick!"

"You're now legally allowed to drink in the US of A."

"Bastard."

"I still recommend against it."

"Shut up."

Now he did find enough strength to laugh, just at her face.

The pillow hit him straight in the face, and he Moved her up off the bed and out of reach of more. "I thought you were tired."

"And I thought you had no more energy to do this."

"It's only a short way and you're still tiny."

She blew a raspberry at him.

"And besides...."

"What?"

"There's the whole happy thoughts thing. I didn't know ti worked."

"Oh."

"Happy birthday, Cassie."

"Happy belated birthday."

"No."

"No?"

"Happy muddy birthday."

"Oh shut up."

"Let's sleep?"

"Yeah."

And later, when he was almost actually drifting off, he heard her quiet, "thanks, Nick."