Key of Thirst

The path squelched like it had opinions. Every step Henry took was met with the sound of clingy pudding, and the faint whisper of something that sounded suspiciously like, "Yesss, walk on me daddy."

Henry blinked. "Did anyone else hear that?"

"The Wetlands are known to flirt," Vebrissima said without looking back. "Don't give them attention. That's how you get jungle-married."

Climaxa twirled mid-air, doing slow aerial spins like a magical stripper fairy. "The last time I winked at a moss patch, I ended up in a six-hour emotional relationship with a fern named Douglas."

"Did you break it off?" Henry asked.

Climaxa sipped from her peach flask. "I ghosted him. But I still feel rustled about it."

The path curved downward, coiling like a teasing snake made of lusty intentions. Ahead, framed by arching trees shaped like curvy dancers mid-twerk, stood a colossal stone gate.