Witch's Marsh prorsus

a growing pleasure draped itself around germanicus as the little dryad fell into step with him. the soldier would have have wished a hunting partner, not in this creature. he would allow no blood to color the vestal hues of the moonlit boy. infused with a determination that kept him silent a long moment, eventually the guard found his voice.

"you are a stranger here," he observed quietly, directly. he had not seen any hint of this creature in the lands he himself inhabited, and there seemed an ethereal cloaking of unknown trees around the purity of the pale robes.