Allen had a grand time riding Mud Horses through the swamp, leaving Nanaue green with envy.
He bounced and jumped about, the little shark so anxious that he flailed his arms and legs.
After Allen had his fill and returned, he flicked his hair and said with satisfaction, "That was truly a thrilling ride of speed and passion."
"Nanaue wants to play."
Overjoyed, Nanaue took the Mud Horse and eagerly stepped onto it. Imitating Allen's movements, he kicked into the mud.
Bang!
He used too much force and immediately flipped over, landing flat in the sludge.
"You need to sing while kicking with your feet. Put your own feelings into it. Mud Horses are emotional creatures," Allen instructed solemnly.
Put feelings into your damn Mud Horse. What a talent you were.
Unfortunately, while ordinary people could learn to ride a Mud Horse at a glance, Nanaue, whose intelligence hovered around the passing line, managed to botch it the moment he tried.
"Nanaue, as your Master, I feel deeply ashamed."
Allen turned to make more Mud Horses.
After chopping down trees and working busily for quite a while, they finally had one Mud Horse per person.
Nanaue, ever unwilling to admit defeat, repeatedly asked Allen to make him an enlarged Mud Horse.
"Assault squad, move out."
Riding their Mud Horses, the group crossed the muddy swamp with the ease of gliding on sleds.
It was already early spring. Frequent rain had turned battlefields everywhere into muddy marshes. If Mud Horses could be widely promoted, they would surely become a formidable battlefield tool.
Not only were they simple to make, but the materials were easy to obtain. They could be put to great use among the Allied forces.
During winter on the Eastern European front, the ground had frozen so hard that