The sun is bordering on warm today. Another winter, another season, another year survived. For better or worse. Bruises, scars, memories, regrets and all. I don't even recognize the me from a year ago. I'd rather not think on it, to be honest.
My camp was as I left it. I'll trek northward a bit more, but for now, I just want to enjoy the peace and quiet. The land is waking up, little by little. Shoots of green here and there among the sleeping, brown grass. The trees are not yet budding, but it won't be long now. The birds have come up from the south already, the colorful ones that we don't see all winter long, and I hear them in the thickets and shrubs. I love their soft warbles as they poke about for the perfect nesting spots, while the males sit high in the boughs of the trees and sing their hearts out. I found a dug-out hole just on the eastward slope by my camp, and I believe a vixen may have taken up there to have her kits. I have been especially quiet for their sake, but I'm eager to see if any red-furred heads show themselves!
Time alone, of course, allows my thoughts to wander all over the place. I think about the past, both recent and long-ago. I think about the future, at least as far as I can push my thoughts into it. I think about people most of all. Those I care for, whether a little or a lot...
I don't know where Taraborn is, but I hope to find him soon. I worry constantly for him. It's a bit exhausting, but such is the price when you care for someone. (a line here is crossed out and illegible)
I suppose Pratther went on his way, but to what destination? He was so nice. Interesting. Fun. He was supposed to help me with my letters. Gods know that nobody could probably read this journal if they found it, my writing's that bad. At least we had a chance to talk and drink and even dance a little before he did what they all do; left.
I know I said I wouldn't say "everyone goes away" anymore, but it seems to hold as true as ever. Perhaps I should add something like, "but not everyone stays gone forever". I can at least concede that much, and that's a step towards being more hopeful, is it not?
I think about Wincer now and then. I feel badly that our last visit was so brief. All so I could rush back to Bree to help someone who said they wanted my help, and...they were nowhere to be found. I hope I get the chance to tell him I'm sorry for hurrying away when it turned out there was no need to. I hope he's well and safe, wherever he is.
I saw Sareva again the last time I was in town. She's far too nice to me. Far nicer than I'll ever deserve. I don't understand why. She's seen and heard and known things that I'd fiercely hide from other people. I think that's part of what endears her to me. She knows things and, for some reason, likes me anyway.
I wonder how Harthator is doing. What a strange friend he's been to me! Our first moments together were so...well, things I'd rather not think about now. How strange, to think that he's the one man who never seems to want anything from me, considering the way we got acquainted. I know, if he appeared now, he'd say "Hello there, Narys, how are things?" and then stand quietly and let me say as much or as little as I wished.
I still think of Rowan. More than I like. I wonder where he went, when he stormed out that night, after shouting and frothing in my face like a wild animal, his throat pouring out insults, one after the other, as if he had no short supply of them. I know his time around those damned barrows affected him, as it did me. Thankfully, time and rest seemed to help the nightmares, the visions, the voices. Gods, I want to just forget all of that ever happened. I hope he found a way to return to himself and remember that he once had a friend named Narys. I think, if he just knows that (more writing is scribbled out here).
And what about Arthionn? Whatever became of him? He was so kind! So incredibly kind to me. I suppose he went off on his suicidal quest to the great lake after all. My heart grows heavy at the thought of it. Did he die there? I hope not.
I'm too young to have all these thoughts. All these people come and gone from my life.
Of course, my mind is most full of someone else right now.
I must make a note not to stop writing in order to rub my eyes, as I've just smeared charcoal all over them, and it's not a fun feeling!
