I have been camping under the stars, and fishing for what seems like forever now, though I know it to be only a week. I wonder if the fish know how good they taste?

The constant ache in my hand has subsided, and I no longer wake in the night to the dreams of the hundreds of thousands of beasts I have slain. It seems a simple task as we accomplish it, to kill the evil lurking in the lands, but I wonder something. As we spill the blood of those that seek to harm us, are we not spreading their evil across the landscape in the form of their blood? When a demon crumples before you, are you really vanquishing evil, or is the Bos just over the hill the next unfortunate victim of that evils taint, as he eats the grass upon which that blood now feeds. How many decomposing corpses lay underfoot as you walk these lands. The grains that make our ale, the bos that makes that Dundee Burger so delicious. All fed from the same source of rotting flesh under the land from our years of struggle. I sickens me even now. I eat the fish, the pure fish of another, untainted land, and I have come to realise that my body is changing somehow. I feel calm, a calm that I have not had since......since long ago.

I think back to the time that I spent, months and months in Fartown contemplating my awakening, eating from the land there, and living off basically nothing. Can it be? That I had been drawn there just before taking this trip? To spend a month away from the hustle and bustle of Dundee, to just reflect? No....I think it is the evil that has fed me for so long. I think that I needed to go there, to replenish that same evil. It is these things that I ponder as I sit near this bubbling stream, catching small fish and culling them. Relishing my triumph as I pull up a large one. Where have my simple times gone to. Why is it, that even here, I feel as though I must train?

My thought for the week:
I hate fish bones.