I CANNOT RUN FROM MY FAMILY | o, joining

[Bell]

His grey fur was matted and plastered to his skin with filthy water, making the skinny fox appear even more frail than usual. He didn't know where he was or where he was heading, he just continued to trudge through the perilous wetlands. There was a tangled mess of scents around him, indicating that there was some sort of group nearby, but Bell had never paid enough attention to the rumours and whispers to know which group that may be. He didn't know anything about any group, actually, all he knew was that they definitely existed. The young boy hopped onto a gnarled root to give his numb legs some rest. He lifted a paw and lapped at it, the metallic tang of blood assaulting his tongue as he attempted to clean a small wound he had received along the way. A big part of him wished that he had chosen somewhere dry to trek through, for there was no doubt that the cut on his toe would start to fester with all this water soaking it.

Bell shook out his pelt a little, mud splattering the tree that he had chosen for his break. He placed all four paws back on the ground and took to surveying his surroundings instead of trying fruitlessly to get clean. Now that he took a good look around, the place was starting to look a little dangerous. Perhaps he should have noticed that before he got a good ten minutes into the swamp. Bell made a face, scrunching up his nose and narrowing his single eye. He had been wandering aimlessly for as long as he could remember, but this was the first time a path he had chosen filled him with regret. The boy sank back on his haunches, resting against the slimy surface of the tree trunk. He may as well just sit back and wait for death to come to him, then. It's not like he could walk any further without food.

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