Witch's Marsh My mirror says I could use a break

skylla offers a low, contemplative grunt to go with the sage nod he offers as she states that she leads it. the fact that she was trying to recruit him and had called it 'her' pack had led him to that conclusion. i'd be surprised if you weren't, in skylla's experience that sort of possessive language was only used when one had control...or wanted it.

like how the sea witches needed the jetsam and flotsam from the sea on warsaw islands. this, at least struck him as familiar, though he was content with the salty tang of the sea and less so of the cloying scent of decay and rancid, upturned stale mud that lingered in this marsh. nevertheless, there was a reason for it and it was one that made sense to him.

she spins the mystery, without really answering his question. still, he had some tidbits to work with. she was a witch and she intended to keep her pack shrouded in mystery. still, if she was offering ...perhaps she saw something in him that he could not. that he would be a good fit for them, or so he is to assume.

ok, i'm in. it wasn't like he had anything else lining up for him; and though the warm weather of spring and then summer was on the way skylla still knew going at it alone would be hard.

i'm skylla, he offers, the by the way trailing off at the end; realizing that they didn't even know each other's names. skylla cairn. though he does not expect the name to mean much of anything here with presumably all of his family back in warsaw or dispersed elsewhere. not now, anyway. not yet.