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If one is unable to free oneself, perhaps by spreading out, getting to one's back, and working one's way to more solid ground, one might drown in rising tides, fall prey to tharlarion, or even, eventually, die of exposure or hunger. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 33, Sentence #159)

Patches of quicksand, which are rare in the marshes, are sometimes marked by Rencers with yellow-tufted wands. Given the physics of quicksand, comparative densities, and such, it presents one with little danger of drowning. By far the greater danger is entrapment. If one is unable to free oneself, perhaps by spreading out, getting to one's back, and working one's way to more solid ground, one might drown in rising tides, fall prey to tharlarion, or even, eventually, die of exposure or hunger. "I give greetings to the nameless lord, he rightfully foremost amongst his people, wrongfully banished from a far world, planner of deep deeds, master of lightning and fire, bender of iron, terror of the delta, ruler of the marshes, dispenser of largesse," called out he who was in the bow of the longboat. "You are late," I heard. I first heard the sounds only as mechanical noises, much as one might note whirs, or clicks, in a machine. - (Quarry of Gor)