Swamp Novels & Stories

Hawk threw him to the ground, sinking his teeth into his shoulder before tossing him like discarded prey. The walls cracked as Hawk’s claws raked through them, the destruction wild and unrelenting. Furniture splintered beneath his weight, debris raining down as the basement transformed into a war zone. The once-smug laughter of his tormentors gave way to panicked shouts and the frantic clatter of boots scrambling for any exit. Hawk moved through the chaos like a force of nature, every swing of his massive arms sending bodies and debris flying. The primal satisfaction of their fear only fueled him further.

Cassie's POV The Whispering Swamp was a put of peaceful excellence, where the water's surface gleamed like fluid silver beneath the delicate caress of willow trees. It was possessed by the Swamp Whisperers, ethereal creatures with the capacity to communicate with the greenery and fauna of their domain. "These swamps hold the privileged insights of quietness," one of the Swamp Whisperers said, their voice a delicate mumble that mixed with the stirring of the takes off. "We accept that by tuning in to the whispers of nature, able to discover agreement inside ourselves

“It just can’t be.” I thought that Reive would to refute me. However, he just let his eyes linger on me and then turned away. The corners of his mouth curled up a little. “If you say so. Let it be just joking.” I didn’t understand if he was telling the truth or not. After a couple of minutes, we came upon a wide swamp. The surface was overgrown with duckweed and waterweeds but dark reed candles were standing up around the edges. Reive was the first to get to the water. He moved the grass aside and dipped his hands in the water.

However, when the army is approaching, it is necessary to send a certain sub-unit to the nearby Crocodile Swamp, investigate intelligence. Here, the monk's bamboo body immediately changed color, Crocodile Swamp was surrounded so quickly, it was hard to believe, the most difficult thing to solve was not knowing this time surrounding Crocodile Swamp How many people are there, and there are many Disciple monks inside, and they have the strength of these bamboo body monks, once they face these monks. Disciple, only one way to die, without any luck.

I stride across the lawn, doing my best not to look over my shoulder toward the back of the garage. At the edge of the swamp, I pause, suddenly doubting my plan. It’s muddy. Like, really muddy. The treacherous ground gives the impression that the stagnant pools of water are much deeper than they appear. The smell of the mire is so thick in the soupy air that I can practically taste it. As I linger, the gnarled branches of the cypress trees beckon to me with twisted fingers, the leaves whispering amongst themselves. Swallowing back my trepidation, I take a step into the swamp.

I turned to run, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me alongside into the swamp. Mud and water rushed up around us, carrying rotting leaves and a fetid stench. I struggled on instinct, yet the harder I fought, the faster I sank. A swamp had no bottom, and it gave no one time to react. My breathing fell apart. Beside me, Stella screamed, stretching her hand toward the forest path. That was when I saw two figures sprinting toward us—Alexander and Christopher. In a daze, I watched Alexander rush to Stella without hesitation. He plunged half his body into the swamp and dragged her out of the sucking mu

The world was thriving without the humans that had once destroyed it. Adam hesitated as they passed through the physical evidence of a devastating past. He had never experienced the cities while they were full of life, he would have only experienced what the wolves had claimed for themselves. They didn’t linger for long as she pushed for them to move onward. Her connection to Grace had grown stronger the further they moved from the north and it had soon become clear to Adelaide where they would be going. Sgaoileadh. The Blood Rock. As the wolves had the Moon Valley as their sacred ground, the vampires had the Blood Rock. It was where they sacrificed innocents in the name of the Moon Goddess.

Xander pulled back with his team. They caught the column at the lower treeline. The swamp announced itself by smell first. Sulfur, low and persistent, the kind of smell that sat in the back of the throat. Then humidity — the air changing quality as the slope leveled out into the marsh basin, the temperature dropping slightly as the water-saturated air replaced the Ridge air. Then the sound changed, the specific acoustic quality of a space where hard surfaces stopped and soft ones started.

Underneath a fallen tree, there was a stream with water streaming down it. I followed the stream and I ended up in a place wherein a body of water is constantly saturated or filled with water. The swamp, a place of life and death, retains a swath of trees in its standing waters all the way up to its multi-layered canopy. Pools form atop seasoned ground amid low-lying plants. A meadow is entranced by the saturated land. I adore its primordial nature's wildness, and I can readily appreciate the extension of its networks, which makes me wonder how far they spread.

Laura whispered into the wind, knowing her voice would carry through their shared bond. "Lorenzo’s scouts have crossed into the southern swales. And they are walking straight into a trap." ​Miles away from the safety of the highlands, the landscape transformed into a suffocating labyrinth of twisted willow trees, stagnant black water, and thick, choking fog. ​Lorenzo led a small, elite squad of border scouts along a narrow, muddy trail winding through the heart of the Dark Swamps. Their boots splashed softly against the murky water, and their hands rested nervously on the hilts of their silver swords. The air smelled of rotting vegetation and sulfur—an unmista