Another day, another ridiculously deadly situation (maybe)

Boy, was it hot! And while there was no way to make shade whenever and wherever Captain wanted (at least, not with his current superpowers), water was another way to cool off. Or- well not really water, but wet stuff in general. Captain stepped onto a mud flat, stepping carefully on wide-splayed hooves and enjoying the cooling touch of the mud on his hide.

There was water here, but for some reason no fish or plants. There were tall, branching structures that looked like they might have been alive at some point, but certainly not anymore. Wisely, Captain decided that it probably wasn't a good idea to put any of the water or mud in his mouth.

A moment's concentration with his superpowers, though, had a yellow banana popping into existence, which Captain promptly ate whole. That would give him some water, as well as fabulous nutrition!

Sluuuurp.

It certainly was not the most dignified of places: each hoof-step was a horrific squelching sound that echoed across the marsh despite the muffling of its hot, humid air.

But! At least Captain was not alone. Of course, he might not yet realize it, but the messy hoof-steps had drawn attention: a few Eyehooks scattered across the marsh had taken quiet notice. Sometimes, they perched in the dead trees, and watched for Quillmice who strayed too far into the swamp. Other times, they simply circled high above and looked for carcasses.

They were gathering, now, drawn by the sight of a single black shape making its way across the open mud flats. First one, then another; a third, a fourth... A handful were soon circling in silence high above, as if waiting for their prey to die... or waiting for a good time to strike. Others began to fill the dead trees, their beady eyes gleaming as they studied their newest target.

Captain must roll to avoid Eyehook attack any way he chooses. A failure will result in additional danger, and likely an attack.

Ahhh, life was good. What could be a more joyous activity than schlorping your way through toxic mud, letting it shield you from the baking heat of Hydra's orb-light?

All levity fled from the situation, though, when a shadow passed overhead. Then another. And another. Captain squinted upward, letting out a quiet "arrr, those dang ugly scurvy dogs!" at the sight of the circling vultures. He still had those scars from the last time they'd attacked him.

They wouldn't get him again, though! In a flash of inspiration, Captain squirmed, sinking deeper into the mud and utterly coating himself with the thick goop. Then, he'd wade by a dead tree, and add in another coat with the water and mud near it.

More yellow-brown than black now, the calf glared up at the vultures. They wouldn't attack someone covered in nasty toxic stuff, right?! And if they did, hopefully the poisonous coating would avenge Captain for him.

A stroke of genius-! The mud-coated calf rose from the marsh as if a carcass rising from the dead. The vultures--who were perfectly content with carrion, and stinky things--still shied away.

It wasn't the rancid odor--and my, it was foul, like a thousand bodies left to rot in an outhouse. Disgusting! Utterly rank! Putrescent! -But it was the fact that the Eyehooks knew full well not to touch the waters of the Dead Marsh. Not even they were so foolish. Now Captain had coated himself in the toxic stuff--it wouldn't harm him, but it sure wasn't appetizing.

And so, eyeing their would-be meal with silent disdain, they kept their distance: a handful circling high above, shadows against the bright light; others perched like hulking ghosts in the dead trees, but none making an approach.

Captain waited, giving a perching vulture his most superior, challenging look. (None of them were attacking yet, which was really the only reason he'd felt confident enough.) When it was clear that they were staying far away, as they should be!, he sauntered off with jaunty squelching noises.

Even the scorching heat of daytime was less bad, with his black fur covered by a cooling layer of mud. It wasn't a bad tactic that the quill mice had picked up--the only downside, really, was the stink. To think that mere mice could be that intelligent! The calf resolved to be even more observant of the smaller creatures around him from now on. Who knew what sort of knowledge he might pick up?