Felltree Marsh Entry No. 1

The waning light from the setting sun washed the terrain with a warm glow. Stagnant pools of the marsh set ablaze as soft oranges painted the horizon. The late autumn evening, absent of birdsong, was scarcely disrupted. The shorter days and return of frost putting many a creature to early sleep or on the wing to travel elsewhere.


Kyrell, of course, was not one of those creatures.


Mud clad and waterlogged, he slogged through the wetland. The broken lattice of felled logs and gnarled branches offering the only escape from the grasping mud and frigid water. Heaving himself onto one such log, Kyrell teetered his way along the trunk. Climbing as it leaned against other displaced trees. Daring to charge across the damp bark as the pile creaked under the additional weight.

Reaching the end of the log, Kyrell paused to shake out his pelt. Mud spattering from his coat, he gave each leg a firm shake before firmly placing it back down upon his perch. Emerald eyes surveying a wide view of the marsh. His goal of dryer land in sight.