Witch's Marsh Papyrus Impressum

@Awol 

Some places that people have disliked initially, they learn to love over time. Witch's Marsh did not grow onto Sarah. Even, when the pools of water had frozen solid and had made moving around easier, the place had just as little appeal to her as it had been, when she had arrived here. And those first impressions had been made under influence of fever, which just proves that sometimes soberness does nothing to change views. 

Still she decided to camp out here, until she got a little better. There were still bouts of fever, but her injured flesh no longer had that malodour of dead tissue about it. The itch around the edges meant that the body had won the fight once again and was healing. She still coughed a great deal and got out of breath easily, but with the slow improvement of her health, she allowed herself to hope that her lungs would heal in time as well.

After a day spent scouting (and the last one, where she had promised herself to find anything good about their current residence), Sarah had settled on a little, grassy, snow-covered hillock and was picking out mud between her fingers.