Felltree Marsh lives of the witching circle

<333

"not yet, shardik," lestan answered, his voice almost calm save for the bleak darkness in his eyes. "i will know the trail when i find it."
the scent of the marshland was foul and strong. he wound around great trees fallen long ago, navigated pools of mud with unknown depths.
breath bones eyes lips curse curse curse
when he found her — !
when he found that man — !
and a chasm of horrible imaginings opened sweetly in his mind; torments for the theft of what was his.