Felltree Marsh i. disappear

the plains bled into marshland.

the ghost moved just as her title implied. he did not see the water stir around her, it did not kick up in muck sprays along her underside and legs. but it did for him. it only made him look like a figure of tar as they went. it helped that his limbs were long, thin like branches to sweep through the uneven land.

ursine.

it did not worry over two travelers as it feasted upon its sweet meal. makan watched it with some balanced level of amazement and caution. what must it be like to be such a force of nature? to be so strong that it did not spare more than a glance to them? was it by creation or by confidence? he would never know.

in the absence of a bear was the cacophony of coyotes. they, too, did not worry over the ghost and shadow. makan looked at them in a longing manner as if he had peered into someone's window. how they danced with one another, how they tended to each other with delight. he admired the strength of their voices. although he may not have understood what exactly they said to one another between loud sounds, he knew he would have felt jealousy there too.

jealousy.

oh, that was it, wasn't it? the root of his dissatisfaction and his continued cycle of disappointment.

jealousy.

he did not know what to do with this newly discovered piece of himself. only that he had it now and looked upon it as if he held a smooth stone. he could not dally, though. the ghost moved on and he must shadow her still. his steps were lighter, quicker.

where to next?