Black Morass sakoku

a fork in the morass
brunch hours, thin clouds

as satsu crossed from han to wasteland she took little notice of it. she watched the open sky and one solitary, thinning cloud. she wondered as she went, if it would dissipate and be gone before the noontime.
the land softened. she only noticed for the smell of it, not the sinking of her steps; the mud was not altogether unpleasant to her.
as she came to a stagnant puddle, she found that it smelled strongly like steeped tea—medicinal in nature. the kind she would prepare for visitors to the han, except it was out of season, and too strong.
when she looked up again she had missed the cloud's dissolution. around her hung a mist, which very well may have been its thready remains.