The air of the swamp was thick with the stench of rot, which became even more apparent under the scorching sun. Lyle, wearing his beak mask, and William had a better method, his body wrapped in circling breezes that not only made his body lighter but also purified the surrounding air.
The swamp was not a barren wasteland; countless microorganisms beneath the black mud decomposed the rotting matter, and the buzzing of insects amid the reeds indicated the popularity of the place among insects.
As they delved deeper, the swamp resembled a boiling cauldron, with bubbles bursting one after another, spewing their pungent odors into the surrounding air.
Just as the two of them were beginning to doubt their bearings, a small clump of reeds in the distance caught their attention.
A mist hung in the air, thick and unmoving, an unusual phenomenon that was far from ordinary. Lyle glanced at the sun overhead, which had begun to tilt westward as time passed but remained fiercely hot.
