Darkness shrouds the place, tangling around the thorns and bushes almost like arms, waiting to grasp any and all unsuspecting, poor fellow that dared venturing too close. His head hurt, or more like, it was the faint memory of what a headache was supposed to have felt like, and it dissipated just as quickly as it head stung his mind with surgical precision.
The spirit groaned, his aches seeming to leave his body as soon as he roused. Large, seemingly feathery wings for arms propped him up on the muddy soil near thje swamps where he lay. It was dark. It was dark, and all he could make out in this umbran place was the faint noise of the wasser and the buzzing bugs hidden in the shadows. He looked around, trying to figure any shapes out in this dark place and succeeded only mildly. His chest rose and sank reflexively, thinking how badly he needed oxygen, unbeknownst to him that such a need was no longer the case.
"Where to the waters am I?"
His voice almost seemed muffled by the darkness that surrounded him, and he attempted to carefully, slowly, begin his trek around the swamps, in hopes to find something, anything, that might give him a clue as to what this place was, who he was, and what he was doing here.