Witch's Marsh Death doesn't let you say goodbye

The dim setting helped to calm his senses. The darker the space the easier it was for him to forget, if only for a minute. In the dark, he could reveal his monsters, the demons harbored deep in his soul. It was hard to hide the darkness in the light. He wasn’t sure what stopped his pursuit, just as he wasn’t sure what he was still pursuing. Confusion flocked the man, as he hesitated midstep. He had no interest in eating, nor sleeping, lest he be caught unawares by his own memories that he desperately tried to outrun.

Coming back to his surroundings, Siarut found himself at a crossroads. Staring down the options at his paws. Right or left? Right or wrong? Wrong or wrong? There was nothing left in his life to do correctly, and once again he found that he just honestly didn’t care which path he took. Both options were criminal, and always would be.

His pale fur stuck out like a sore thumb in the waning light. Turning toward the left-hand path, Siarut stared with glazed eyes down his chosen path. Wondering, hoping that maybe this would be it.