Witch's Marsh roll away your stone

Forward-dated to Feb 12th.

Walking had never been more difficult, and for the proven ambassador it was a disastrous feeling to have her mobility, and in a way her agency, stripped from her. The past few days had felt different to Ibis and she had wanted to put more space between herself and the tiny den which had become her sanctuary; blame this on missing her friends, or feeling the ever-present dread with each breath of the exposed clay soil. Sometimes when she woke in that den she thought she was rising from the grave, which was an unnerving experience. If she was ever going to be useful to the wolves of the Emberwood - if she ever wanted to see Kukulkan or Awol or Reiko, or anyone, ever again - she needed to get better.

So she began to test herself in tiny ways.

First, just leaving the den for tiny stretches, growing longer as the days progressed. She would try to go further every day, too. Whether she had an accomplice to guard her or not, Ibis tried. She gradually moved her way through the wood - to the point that she stopped returning to her little den entirely - and after a lot of struggle, found herself on the edge of the territory. She was panting and exhausted, her limbs trembling as if they demanded respite; but she pressed on and pushed through that limit (knowing it would strain her thinned muscles, hurt her so much she would not sleep for all the aches), and that was how she fought her way across the shallow contours of the river.

She stopped when the familiar sight of the marsh came in to view. Nothing drew her here specifically. It was cold, it was wet, and ultimately much more dangerous for Ibis than she had fully understood when she began this personal quest. The snow had piled in heavy sheets across the landscape and for someone as weak as the tiny girl, it was an effective death trap. In an hour the path she'd woven across the valley would be gone, buried — and if she wasn't careful, so too would she.