The soreness in his body was nothing compared to the intense cramp in that thigh. He stretched that hoof at a 90-degree angle, held it as best as he could and hoped the damn thing would settle down. The little kick of protest with his other leg was half-hearted as the tentacle seized him, carried him along.

"Sssshit, I haven't had one of these in a few decades..." Wings. Right. Wings...

Thankfully the very angry horse seemed to stop kicking, slowly but surely. It was enough to have him gradually open his wings. They had most of the mud shaken off of them, but were instead dappled with bits of the water- scum, bits of duckweed and all- from the bayou. So desperate was he to get the mud off that he opted for the... not-very-smart alternative.