Sosir and the un-sea
T he heavy, wet clay was an almost impassable barrier to him. He sank deep with every step, the fur on his legs clotted with the sticky mud up to his knees, the pull of the soil hard on his legs and back. He had known gravity would have had its pull on him once more once he had taken the elevator down, but underestimated its effect. Had he been one prone to despair or self-pity, the grey batter would have eventually swallowed him in the end. He was not, though. His kind was bitterly stubborn, holding on beyond sensibility. Well out of his mind he found himself dragged up to the base of a scraggly weeping willow. up to his chest the clay covered his fur, cracking and crusting where it had slowly begun to dry. The sun had already started to rise. The watery, early rays were not enough to thoroughly warm him, but the worst of the chill was abated. The faint morning light was at least enough to look around him, and see the stiff, short reeds nearby on the little tree-crowned mound. Sc...
