Felltree Marsh noble blood

After a fleeting encounter upon the windswept shore, Astier turned inland. His first instinct had been to seek the glacier, to scour its frozen silence for any lingering trace of the Kaan or the remnants of his old faction. Yet his broad strides carried him elsewhere, as though guided by some unseen hand. The sea’s cold embrace, that unplanned fall into the depths, he took as an omen: the glacier was no longer his to chase. His path, it seemed, lay beyond.
The pale wraith pressed onward, skirting the edge of a dense forest until the trees gave way to the still breath of a marsh. His silver eye swept the landscape, mapping every shadow, every ripple of water and reed. He would rest here for a while, let the earth’s quiet murmur steady him, before pressing south once more.