Blud Blugsson was willing to admit that he was a little off course. Yes, maybe even lost. In retrospect, when he'd gotten seperated from the other members of the raiding party, he should probably have headed north, or east to the shoreline, not south. And crossing that big river had definitely been a mistake. And he should have stopped after the first week, not kept going for two months in the wrong direction. That had been pretty pigheaded. He was willing to admit that now. But, c'mon! The battle hamsters, chosen of Thor, wearers of weaselskins, etc, etc, did NOT stop and ask for directions! They were a smite-first-don't-bother-with-questions breed! Thor liked it that way! It was perfectly understandable. And by the time Blud was willing to ask directions, he'd gone so far afield that the natives spoke a completely different language, and all he'd been able to figure out from the sign language was that they believed he was some kind of small, fat sasquatch.
Besides, he'd been so sure that he was finally been headed in the right direction, until he wound up in the mangrove swamp.
Watercolor/mixed media, 9 x 12 on textured clayboard. The battle hamsters really appealed to me, and I had to revisit them a bit more. Original is for sale, prints available, visit [link]
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