Witch's Marsh prorsus

A rest, Ico repeated quietly, barely realising he was saying this aloud. His wants were similar to those of Germanicus, but not quite the same; Ico did not want a respite perchance to delve back into chaos at some later date. He wanted a restful life. A life in which "adventure" was a new litter of puppies in the pack, rumours of a fascinating newcomer, or a scouting expedition into handsome mountains.

Not a riverside battle, an over-worked healer and a dead dog.

I'd love to hear your story, he chanced bashfully, but he also appreciated now was perhaps not the time. For the tall guard was honing in on something; either the herd he'd been tracking, or something in the lush areas surrounding.