The marsh was ever encroaching upon the ramshackle town.
The buzzing flies, slithering snakes, slimy toads, and bad water were to be
found in every cellar. When the swampy land was engorged by the yearly flood,
the villagers waded through ankle-deep water wherever they went. And every
year, someone lost a foot, a leg, or their life to marsh rot. They made their
lives largely in two fashions: selling peat that they cut out of the mire and
poisons they cut out of the snakes and frogs that dwelt therein. For the
latter, they did brisk trade with the nobility.
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