Witch's Marsh prorsus

"as far as i like," germanicus hummed good-naturedly, moving with reflexive step to flank ico closely. the cherubic nymph might set their pace; his role was to ensure no harm came to the pathfinder. the hush of his palegold eyes surveyed their step, measured already the spread of briars to the left, the firmer places he might walk alongside the boy until they had come to more familiar green-grass carpet beneath spreading trees.

and already he looked ahead in his heart to whatever length of journey ico would lead him upon, sensing it would at once be too long and yet not long enough. whitebark beckoned; the guard felt the new pull of his chosen lands within his nomadic heart. an odd sensation. surely artyom would forgive him this once. "you never gave a surname."