deat

Faustino’s Journal, Ninth night since the eighth moon of this year. Bree, I killed an Elf today, shot him clear through the throat, he dropped to the floor as blood was pouring out of his wound, another elf ducked down and sat next to him, but it was to late, i saw his strength leave as he collapsed. I sheathed my Crossbow on my back, and made a run for it, have they seen me? Maybe, but who cares, I'm like a shade running over the rooftops of Bree, they won't figure out who it was, "hah" Not in a million years.