Witch's Marsh please let me blaze

It all reminded her of home and for a moment her restless spirit is soothed. Why leave? The land seemed to whisper to her here, begged her to stay for more than a passing moment — and she would do as it said. Opted to learn the land that beckoned her so.

Where her unknown company might have blended into the earth around them with any remaining snow piles and the general grey atmosphere, she was a ruby streak across the marsh. Though somewhere in her twisting — turning — she spotted him caked in mud from the legs. As if he had grown from the earth, the the dirt and decay. Her heart hitched and she felt as though she was seeing a ghost.

No, no, not a ghost.

Peryite. . .

Had he been given form? Did he have words for her? Speak she would silently beg of him.