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The doe found the swamp a mess of newness. The hard plate scales and thick fur made the heat oppressive and she found it harder to deal with than the bitter chill of the mountain snow or harsh and howling wind of the tundra. It was exhausting, really, and she wondered, not for the first time, how such frail looking things lived here. If the kin of much shared tales could live here, then so could she -- she had not earned her name for nothing.

Do-or-Die's strong hooves came down on the ground -- it was still odd to her now how soft it could be -- as she came upon the fish laden water. She was hungry but mostly she was hot and she took forward with a deliberate pace. It was only when she was knee deep in the cool water, the shade of the swamp's trees cooling her back, that she spied the vibrant pink fur. She lapped the drink greedily before rising. This was the first Totoma she had seen in the swampland.

She waded through the shallow edge of the basin, ignoring the fish in favor of possible company. As a child of a large litter it was hard to get used to being alone. She barely noticed her movements as she came to stand before the napping buck, was only vaguely aware of her limbs bending and body shifting to lie down, too. But she kept quiet, not quite able to wake him purposefully. She hoped he woke soon.

The green of his eyes reminded her of her own fur as he woke. It was comforting, she found. "Good, but hot, day," she added. For a swamp that called and beckoned, so far it offered little other than heat and sweat. And yet it did not quite irritate her.

It was more her stomach, a loud rumble of hunger rattling, than her mouth that answered his offer. "Thank you," -- it sounded a touch abashed as she rose and made her way to the stone, eating her fill. The fish was a great gift although it made her vaguely tired. That was the problem with food; it was a sleeping draught.

She moved back and once more curled down. "Do you have a name yet?"

She wondered how many nameless had come to the swamp in the hopes of being named. An already hard journey made all the more challenging. She was glad she had been named before the trek to the swamp. While it may have been an ever-growing shard of encouragement, she thought it may have driven her mad.

"Yes. I was named Do-or-Die," a proud smile curved her mouth and her entire posture seemed to tense in self-pride. It had been no easy task to be named. Even a small difference may have meant a name of honorary in death or a scoff at her stubbornness.

Silence was something she had grown accustomed to in the long journey to the swamp. Even so she was glad when he spoke. There would always be apart of her used to the constant chatter of her brothers.

"I wanted to prove myself stronger than my brothers," she replied. It was something they had laughed at and that had only made her more determined.

"No," she shook her head, "but some of them might come." She couldn't see only one coming after more time passed -- her brothers had never been the best at doing things alone. Brothers stuck together. Another sister or two would have been nice; Totoma expectations aside brothers babied their only sister.

The doe, once again, shook her head. "Not long, no." It felt like she had been here a season and yet only a few sunlit hours. In the mixture of exhaustion and joy, the days were blended together in a blur.

"You are the first Totoma I have seen here," she admitted before speaking of her journey. "Long, is all it seems now. It's a feat to be here." A brief pause, "How did you find the trek?"

It could be seen as foolish but the trek back may well have been more arduous. She agreed that continuing forward was the more admirable and wise choice. Indeed, she nodded in agreement.

"I was fortunate not to find any packs. I saw only one or two wild cats, alone." Another reason that she is glad her siblings would likely not venture the journey alone. "Why is your friend not with you now?" she asked.