Swamped

"Well, at some point he's probably going to want to know about this," Yvonne says, holding up a jar. It's filled with something that's an unpleasant color, but you can't tell what it is.

"What's in there?" you ask.

"You know how you humans use chamber pots? This is more like what we use."

You feel more than a little disgusted. You don't think you want to know how it got to be that particular color.

"Now, our friend over here probably isn't an unusually tall grebling," she continues. "So I'm wondering how this came to be here."

The wagoner doesn't look too happy, but answers quickly after a dirty look from Corvus.

"I was carrying a grebling slave for a client," they say. "That was a while ago. I haven't had time to clean out the wagon. Couldn't tell you what happened to him, I handed him off to another courier."

"Yeah, they like to transfer slaves around a lot. Less time for any one driver to hang around with them and maybe start caring," Corvus grumbles. "Thanks for the heads-up. I'll tell Rider once we get going; it's not like we can do anything about it at this point."

At that moment, you hear a bell.

"Ah, that'll be our last warning," Corvus says. "We'll get moving soon, so everyone hold on tight to something until you get used to the motion. Oh, and Rivers, keep an eye on Pubert here for me; I'm heading up front."

With that, Corvus walks past you, Starling sits down on the bench next to you, Yvonne just stays still, and Rivers braces herself on a support beam near the wagoner... Pubert, you suppose.

Then the wagon starts moving. It's a bit of a jolt at first, and you feel yourself shaking up and down. It's an even rougher ride than the carriage you rode to the swamp.

After a few minutes, though, it seems calmer. Still hardly comfortable, but you don't feel like you'll be tossed around everywhere if you get up.

Corvus still hasn't come back. You're starting to feel a little bored. Perhaps you can start up a conversation with someone here to pass the time.