The boat scraped up to the edge of a small, miserable island in the middle of the swamp.
It wasn't much of an island. It was just a lump of dirt tangled up with roots, drifting in a sea of black sludge.
"This," Ren announced, stepping off the boat and sinking ankle-deep into the muck, "is the worst kitchen I have ever worked in. And I once cooked in a food truck with a leaky roof during a hurricane."
Syris followed her off the boat. He floated above the mud, his shimmering robes still spotless.
"Make the heat," Syris commanded, his voice tight. He was shivering again, the damp air seeping into his bones. "Viper. Bring the ingredients."
Viper, the lead Snake Guard, slithered onto the mud. He carried a woven basket in one hand and a dead duck—well, Water-Fowl—in the other. He looked shaken.
"King," Viper whined, holding the basket away from his body, his forked tongue flicking nervously. "The Rock-Spiders... they are angry. One grabbed my tail."
