Felltree Marsh sonst ist licht- und farblos

she steps near with stately grace as the other speaks, falling once more into her complete stillness when she reaches a distance better benefitting a conversation, one-sided as it may be. a blink of dark eyes is the answer she gives, though a sweep of her ears, a sweep of her gaze across the swamp before coming again to rest on the sylph asks wordlessly who she is, to stride so easily through a place like this. 

the stink of the mud on her leg is an irritant she longs to deal with, and yet her focus remains on the nameless sylph, ignore the itching to groom.