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Queer fog flits and dances among the gnarled branches and twisting vines along this narrow passage, and shimmering lights of torchbugs, or perhaps fey, wink and blink out at you from the shadows of the willowy canopy overhead. Muddy, shallow water lines the place, and a boot plunging into the loamy ground is sure to sink into the muck. The only way to navigate this place seems to be by narrow rowboat, but even that is hampered by untamed vines that slither through the waters, gleaming in the damp like scaled serpents, and the incessant buzz of mosquitos and the occasional croak of amphibians fill the air.

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