Mud was not supposed to have teeth, but there was no mistaking those long, jagged horrors as the mud-monster thing rose up and came at his face. Raffé belatedly drew his sword, getting it up just in time for a clumsy block that sent him tumbling to the waterlogged ground. He swore and rolled as the monster came at him again, getting to his knees just in time to bring his sword up again, catching the monster in the hinges of its enormous mouth, slicing down into them.
It snarled and fell back, collapsing into the mud and water-immediately camouflaged save in the way it moved, and even then it was damned hard to track. Raffé's skin prickled with magic as it hovered close, making wet, garbled, spitting sounds as it tried to get at him even as its jaw still healed.
Raffé followed it, sword
