Ruby wanders back from from the docks, gncing around the little vilge. No big signs, no fancy buildings, no busy town squares like in the stories she half-remembered from bedtime tales.

  Just houses. A few sheds. Smoke curling from a chimney or two. People working, people talking, but definitely no big obvious "Come Stay Here!" signs.

  Ruby slows, frowning thoughtfully. "... Wait. Where do people even sleep if they don't have a house?" She stops in the middle of the path, thinking hard.

  Back home, she had her cozy little bed. Her family. A roof.

  In the forest, she had her bnket and whatever tree looked least likely to colpse on her.

  But here? In the swamp? With rain clouds rolling in over the kes and the ground already half mud?

  Ruby shivers slightly and hugs her bnket tighter. "Soooo... maybe... maybe I need something... tent-ish? Something to keep me warm and Bnket safe from the evil swamp water."

  She looks around at the vilgers again-normal, practical-looking people hauling crates, cleaning fish, patching roofs. None of them seem to be selling tents or handing out free rooms.

  She frowns, thinking harder. "Maybe I should, like, ask somebody?"

  Ruby scans the path for someone who looks friendly enough to approach.

  Ruby straightens her shoulders, nodding firmly to herself "Fisherman it is," she whispers.

  She trots back toward the docks, her boots spshing in a shallow puddle, and zeroes in on an older man with a thick gray beard and rough hands, busy mending a fishing net stretched across two wooden posts.

  The man gnces up as Ruby approaches, one eyebrow lifting slightly at the slight of a damp, bnket-wrapped fox girl marching toward him with the determined energy of a charging squirrel.

  "Hi!" Ruby chirps brightly. "Uh, quick question!"

  The fisherman pauses, resting his hands on the net. "Aye?"

  Ruby fidgets with her bnket. "Sooooo... say, hypothetically, someone didn't have a house. Or money. Or, like, any sort of dry pce to sleep. Hypothetically. What would you do if you didn't wanna, y'know, turn into swamp soup overnight?"

  The fisherman blinks at her slowly, like he's still trying to figure out if this a real conversation. Then he lets out a short, rumbling chuckle. "You'd want a tarp, little miss."

  Ruby tilts her head. "A tarp?"

  He nods. "Canvas sheet. Stretch it over somethin' to keep the rain off. Won't be fancy, but it'll keep you drier than nothin'." He squints at her, thoughtful. "Might be you could scavenge one from the old shed by the south shore. Folk dump broken nets, old tarps, and wood scraps there."

  Ruby beams. "Thank you!! You're a life-saver! Literal Life-saver!" She spins on her heel and races off with a soggy squelch of her boots.

  The fisherman watches her go, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Forest kids," he mutters, before turning back to his net.

  The shed isn't hard to find-just a short walk along the south bank of the ke, tucked behind some scraggly bushes and half-colpsed looking fencing. It leans slightly to one side, like it gave up standing straight a decade ago, and it smells like wet rope, mildew and retirement.

  Ruby approaches with the sort of reverence one might show a sacred temple-or a bakery just before dawn. She pauses at the door, peers inside, then immediately sneezes as a puff of dust flies up.

  Inside, it's a chaotic treasure trove of half-broken tools, splintered creates, bundled fishing line, cracked oars, and-aha!- a rolled up tarp wedged beneath an old lobster trap.

  With a triumphant grin, Ruby dives in. It takes a good minute of wrestling, a mild tangle with a coil of netting, and a brief panic attack when she thinks a moldy rope is a snake-but she finally drags the tarp free. It's stiff, smells a bit like old fish and cedar sap, but it's mostly intact.

  "Victory!" she procims, hoisting it over her head like a champion.

  Then the old lobster trap tips over and bounces off her foot. "OW! Worth it!"

  With the tarp slung over her shoulder and a new bruise blooming on her toe, Ruby makes her way back toward the main path, now properly equipped to not die of swamp-reted sogginess.

  With the tarp secured and a vague pn forming in her mind, Ruby gave the kes one st gnce, then turned westward- well, slightly southwest if she was being honest with herself-and began walking.

  The vilge fades behind her quickly, swallowed up by the tall reeds and lichen-coated trees that lined the narrow trail. There isn't really a road, more like a suggestion of one, marked by slightly fewer puddles and the occasional broken fence post leaning at a suspicious angle. The air staying thick with the scent of still water, the kind of damp that clings to her skin and refused to let go. Bugs humming in a persistent chorus, and strange calls echoed from unseen creatures deep in the wetnds.

  Despite the wet and weight of her pack, Ruby's spirits are still high. The idea of walking toward a destination-even one she couldn't quite point on a map-filled her with purpose.

  As she presses herself forward more-the sun slowly begins to drift lower, casting long shadows over the swampy ndscape. In the distance, through the low canopy, Ruby catches a glimpse of a slow-moving river winding north west to south east, carving its way between the southern ke she had been traveling by, and a new, much rger ke ahead. This ke seems to stretch for days, a distant gray shimmer hugging the horizon.

  But she wouldn't reach it tonight. As twilight settles in and the drove of the swamp grows louder, Ruby starts scanning for a dry enough spot to make her camp.

  She looks down at the ground beneath her-the ground being soft, and sometimes sinking slightly beneath her steps. The idea of curling up in it without more protection than she has, makes her shudder. She softly sighs, and mutters to herself, "Time to put that tarp to work..."

  Ruby trudges through the much a little longer, eyes scanning for anything resembling solid ground. Eventually, she finds a slightly raised patch near a twisted cluster of root-heavy trees. It's not exactly dry, but it's firmer than the surrounding bog. It'll have to do.

  She drops her pack with a soft but small grunt and pulls out the tarp, turning it over in her hands a few times. "Okay," she mutters, "how hard can this be?"

  Ruby remembers what the fisherman said-use branches if she can, keep it angled so the rain slides off. The ground here doesn't offer much, but there are enough low-hanging branches and crooked trunks to work with.

  She ties one corner of the tarp to a thick root, another to a sapling that leans just the right way. A third corner goes to a walking stick she had found, which she jams into a clump of mossy dirt. It leans precariously, but holds. The fourth corner? She weighs it down with a rock and hopes for the best.

  Stepping back, Ruby gives her makeshift shelter a slow nod. It's lopsided, and one edge droops just enough to annoy her-but it stands. "Could be worse," she says to herself, brushing off her hands and crawling underneath.

  She wraps her bnket around her shoulders, tucks her knees close, and listens to the symphony of frogs and insects rising with the night. Somewhere out there, water gurgles through the reeds. It's not comfortable. It's not clean. But it's hers for the night.

  The bnket isn't doing much to keep out the damp chill, but Ruby clutches it tightly anyway, curled on her side beneath the tarp. The frogs croak and bugs buzz, and the sounds almost remind her of home-except they don't. Nothing really does.

  She sighs, resting her chin on her arm. "Wonder how long this is going to take.." she murmurs to herself, voice nearly lost in the night. "How long before I find Aria..."

  Ruby tries to picture Aria's face-sharp silver hair, those bright eyes, the way she smiled when they first met. Her chest tightens just a little. She wants to tell her everything. About the journey, about Lyari, even about the strange naked wizard on the rock. Aria would ugh. Maybe.

  Her mind drifts. To Tahkii. To the house she could know as home. To her siblings-the only other beastkin in a vilge of humans. She remembers how Tahkii would scold them gently when they fought, how warm the kitchen smelled in the morning. She misses that warmth now, in a way that makes her chest hurt.

  She lets her eyes drift upward, toward the hanging folds of the tarp. "Is everything going to be forests or swamps forever?" she asks the darkness. "Does the world even have pces that don't squish when you step on them?"

  A mosquito buzzes close and she bats it away half-heartedly.

  The thought made her smile a little, even as it fades. Her body aches, her stomach still grumble, and sleep feels like a strange, faraway thing.

  But eventually, it comes. Slowly, gently-like the hush that settles over the swamp when the stars finally pierce the mist.

  The sky is a soft gray when Ruby stirs, a thin light creeping under the edge of her tarp. She stretches, groaning softly as her back protests the night on uneven soggy ground. Dew clings to her bnket, and a few stubborn bugs buzz zily nearby, still persistent in the morning chill.

  She sits up and yawns, rubbing her eyes. Her stomach grumbles almost immediately, a sharp reminder of her ck of food. She frowns, as she gets up. She stuffs the bnket and the tarp into her pack with a touch of irritation.

  "Right... still no food," she mutters, brushing a stray curl out of her face. The idea of rummaging through a swamp for breakfast isn't appealing. Mushrooms and bugs just don't sound worth the effort today. Having learnt her lesson about trying to scavenge something for food in a pce she doesn't know much about, she decides to set off instead.

  The path is barely more than a stretch of firmer ground winding between pools of brackish water and patches of cattails. Her boots squish with each step, the ground soft and untrustworthy. But she walks with purpose, determined to reach the river she saw yesterday.

  It doesn't take long. The trees thin just slightly as the nd dips, and the sound of moving water grows clearer. Finally, she reaches it-a slow, winding river cutting through the marsh like a zy snake. The water is dark, nearly bck in pces, its surface dotted with floating weeds and lily pads.

  And there, spanning the water, is a bridge. Or at least... what passes for one.

  The structure is little more than warped pnks of wood nailed together in a way that suggests someone did their best without really knowing how. It sways slightly with the breeze, and a few of the boards are so waterlogged they sag armingly in the middle.

  Ruby stops, squints at the bridge, then gnces at the water. "Of course," she mutters, taking a cautious step closer. "Because why would there be a nice normal bridge in the middle of a swamp?"

  She sighs, adjusting her pack. "Well... I guess it's this or swim."

  The bridge creaks under Ruby's weight, but it holds. She walks slowly, arms out for bance, eyes locked on each board before she steps. A few wobble, and one squishes ominously beneath her boot, but it doesn't break. When she finally steps off onto the other side, she lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

  "Still alive. Ha!" she grins to herself, hands on her hips in triumph. Then she looks up.

  More swamp. Endless swamp. The ndscape stretches before her, a mosaic of moss-choked puddles, low reeds, twisted trees, and the mist that clings low to the water. The air is thick and humid, and gnats immediately return to swarm near her ears.

  She squints ahead, shielding her eyes from the muted light. There-way off in the distance-there's a faint shape. It might be a building. A shack? A watchtower? Or maybe it's just a strangely square tree or a trick of the fog.

  Ruby tilts her head. "Could be something... or could be more swamp pretending to be something."

  With a little sigh and a shrug, she continues forward, boots squelching, a smile tugging at her lips despite the bugs. "This is fine. Everything is fine."