In fact, the entirety of Grimbush seemed like it was ready to sink into the swamp. The town was built on thin, ailing pillars of wood, keeping it ten feet or so above the brackish waters. Vines thick as snakes grew everywhere, tangling themselves into impossible knots. Houses sagged with years of mistreatment, decomposing in the hot, moist air. Lantern light bled through their shoddy walls. It was the only sign that ponies still lived here. 