Whatever was there had obviously gotten scared off. Balthazar spat in irritation and shoved his way into the swamp. He spotted fresh tracks in the mud leading away to the east. He looked at the muck like a disgruntled old hound and folded his arms. It would be troublesome to cross through that mess, and it would surely slow him down. The only other option was to take a detour. Returning to the area he had previously stopped in, Balthazar sped off in a half-circle around the bog.