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Sassy could not tell which was worse. The muck or midges. She was wet to mid thigh with the slimy goo that passed for much of the marshland; her face and arms were welting up from the insect stings. No wonder the old man had left them, she thought to herself. Her only comfort, and small comfort at that, was that the others were as miserable as she.
Lunch was eaten as they slogged along. The little group had found that if they kept up a good pace, the insects were less able to land on them. Sassy’s legs, though, were growing tired and she did not know how long she could keep on being a moving target for the blood thirsty midges.
Sondo was leading the way and she hoped he had a clearer view of their route than she did. She was once again at the back of the line and her gaze was focused on the pair of muddy legs in front of her. If they stumbled or dodged something she made sure to avoid whatever obstacle there was as she came along.
As the sun set, cool breezes began to blow across the marshes from the two rivers. Now the Hobbits were wet and chilled. Sassy’s teeth began to chatter. She hoped with all her might that a patch of dry land could be found and a warm little fire built.
Tomorrow, she remembered the old man had said, they could safely cross the Withywindle and be home.
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