Felltree Marsh sonst ist licht- und farblos

she is almost clear when another voice calls. the wraith pauses, finding the light-and-shadow painted source yet noting also the pull of the earth. she blinks, carefully navigating the bank as to find a more solid place to properly greet this woman. a misstep; for a moment, earth becomes liquid and her forelimb vanished almost to the shoulder. a hiss under her breath, a carefully repositioning of her other forelimb to allow her to carefully pull it back up to the surface. 

stinking mud coats her limb rather excessively, lips tightening as she settles herself quickly atop a more solid part of the marsh. gaze returns then to the sylph, dark eyes unreadable as she dips her muzzle in respectful greeting. in the past few days alone she's met more wolves than in a month of traveling, but along with her unease, she's come to be more practiced.