Why did I decide to come here again? Oh yes. The ocean staves off any extremes of temperatures. And the need for adventure. Which was fully ridiculous, as never before had Tor felt the need to explore and run into the heart of danger and all manner of funny things like that. Really! When faced with a pack of mangy wolves, surrounded by possible friends, she had turned and ran. And now she was in the heart of disaster, the Spectral Swamp, which was constantly pumping out horrors and conjurations that made the fearful one weep when alone, and left you fumbling in the dark for light. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Tor. Now, the draft's feathers were clotted with cold globs of sticky snow-mud, clinging to her skin and dripping profusely with some sort of matter Tor didn't really want to know about. I suppose I may be able to find some herbs or fungi at least. How the mare wanted to plunge into the water and rinse her legs. No, it wasn't a matter of vanity- have you ever felt such filth rubbing and encasing your legs, pieces of stringy feathers clotted down to your skin? If you had, you would understand the extreme discomfort. To make matters worse, everything in this swamp smelled of decay.
The painted draft paused, brown eyes slipping around to watch the scenery carefully, mentally leaving markers on the treacherous path she was following. Yes- over there, the tree bent double with the long trailing finger-branches brushing the ground, with the rock between its roots. It marked the beginning of the path into the Marsh. And ahead, if you looked carefully, you could see a couple of stones with glyphs on them, pointing straight ahead. That would be useful, so long as they didn't point in the wrong direction.
Tor continued through the marsh in annoyance, cold water seeping through her fetlocks in her big bones, the disgusting squish of something popping under her left fore, a quiet voice... What the fuck?! Tor jumped in alarm, legs splaying, jerking onto her hind end, quivering ever so slightly. The poor terrified mare had not realized it was simply the vocals of Lace, a horse somewhere between friend and enemy for Tor, lost in the neutral lands. Wait... there it was again! The only word she heard: Ghosts. A shiver ran through the mare's spine. The healer inhaled sharply, exhaled softly, attempting to calm herself. I should really keep a store of lavender handy, the mare tried to tell herself to shake off the fear. Yes, lavender. Lavender has the properties to calm and soothe. Chervil can help cure infections. Eucalyptus can heal open sinuses and cure colds. More and more plants she listed, until the quiet repetition finally cured her fear, left her breathing deeply and smoothly. With soft feet she approached, ignoring the chill of water soaking through, cautiously peering through the obscure mist that seemed to cling to the Swamp, giving everything a mystical air.
"Lace?! Is that you?" Tor exclaimed, relieved and off-put. All she could think of was their strange up-and-down relationship.
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of ghosts and other unnatural things (Tor, Azulee, NPC)
