Felltree Marsh You dream the dream that I do.

The scent of Cyclone had faded in the forest but Tuya would not give up hope - so she chased what signs she found of life, of Libertine, and drifted away from the claim over the course if the month. It hurt to be so invested in the idea of a person only to have it blow up in her face; but finding a suitable master in these wilds was a challenge itself, and if Tuya was anything, she was unyielding. Her route took her north to the coast and then east as she avoided the mountain range. She ate sparingly, slept rarely; the test of her endurance and motivation was harrowing, especially when she came upon the marshland.

It was nothing special - and even the girl could see that. A sprawling yellow grassland with bands if silt-heavy water bleeding in to the horizon. There was a lot of life in this place, moist and smelly as it was. Songbirds proliferated, filling the swaths of grass with their tittering. She caught some frogs in the early morning, but afterwards couldn't find the energy to eat them. Instead she found a thicket of deep water - more or less a trench - and threw them as far as she could with a spin of her forequarter. Within minutes a heron had swooped down and snatched the free meal from the mire.

With an uncharacteristically morose little huff, Tuya moved on.