Witch's Marsh Will I ever see heaven again?

Ibis had become accustomed to the chill of the season, finding that the trees of the marsh held that chill much more intently than the exposed sections where the water stood motionless. There was a constant sense of dampness to everything which she didn't particularly like; it made the air feel heavy when the sun was out (even in November) but was hellish for her thin-coated body. She thought, maybe, that the humidity would be more intense in the warmer seasons. Maybe then she'd be more comfortable here.

Not everything was under water either. There were thinned sections of pond sprawling across some of the green, most of which being so shallow that her toes got wet and nothing more. These thinner bits were often shimmering; a few times in the early morning as she's done patrols, Ibis has found layers of ice in place of that water. Her paws left small divots where the layer broke beneath. The deeper sections of the marsh appeared to be focused to the core of the territory — so deep and so vibrant, but in the cold the water looked pristine, crystal clear, which made her ponder aloud, What a beautiful find!

But there was nobody here to share her enthusiasm, or to wonder at the beauty of the spit of land. She had not seen @Okeanos in a week or so and was worried. The girl had begun to patrol more frequently, as it had been the last place they'd seen one another, but there was no sign of him - not by the central pond, not at any of the shallow ones, not even among the tangled trees that lined the territory like spires.

She was — somehow — more alone now than ever before.