Black Morass sakoku

a foul taste had seeped across her tongue.
nearby the spirit seemed to roam and draw closer, taking on a more pointed form. it was like communing with her own shadow; they were of similar size, her and the dark shape.
like before, this spirit was kind. in her fretting satsu forgot about the warnings of her parents and looked quickly to where they lurked, catching their bright eyes with her blue.
it-- i thought it-- it was another stick. i think something is dead, there.
oh; was it him? had satsu disturbed the spirit's resting place? she paled at the thought.