Otatso Wetlands where will you go

Haunting. These woods reminded him of forbidden places, of dark realms devoid of beauty, and mercy, and light. Indeed, the evening sun hardly touched this part of the woods, so obstructed by the spindling branches of trees that did not seem to shed their leaves, so defiant of the order assigned to every plant but them. Willows waved in the soft autumn breeze and carried the smell of blood towards him. His nostrils twitched, but he did not lose pace.

He had never much liked the smell.

He followed the weep of a spectral voice, her anguished song roaming as a whisper through the wetlands to touch the Brother's probing ears, and so, over bog and loamy ground, he let his heart guide him toward her.

And he found her, tucked beneath an ancient willow, bleeding sorrow and life into the murky waters below. And he knew the likes of her. He had been told of her kind, many times, and father had warned him. But where he had seen death, Augustine saw life: and this, father had often said, would be his downfall, for there were some beasts that were simply their enemies; there were some that were born with murder in their hearts; there were some that should not be saved.

With every warning he remembered, he drifted another step forward with no effort to conceal himself, even though he knew the danger; knew she could outpower him.

"My friend," he said once the shadows no longer obscured him, "why do you weep?"

He knew, of course, why she wept. This much was evident. But he wished for her to tell him.