I think I am ready. No apologies for time spent in prayer for Cory knows I will need His help! Still I cannot make out their dear words. Still some phrases evade me. Each stain on the parchment, each rip and tear, I feel as though through their, and now perhaps my, flesh. I have provisions in plenty, though I have been careful to pack only those stuffs that do not need heating. I do not wish fire or the smell of warm food to drift from my camp and call unwanted visitors. Trouble enough I am expecting to see.

I have been quietly practicing the art of shelter making that Richard tried to teach me so very long ago. I truly do miss him still and especially at this moment. He would have thought nothing of what I am about to do except to advise me strongly against it. So it was all those years ago up in the mountains. Still I can hear my voice echoing around the pass and reflecting back to me from the great doors if I close my eyes and concentrate. That is another place I have been dwelling on but I know it is not possible for me to go into there.

I have had to leave my books behind - they are too heavy to carry and I must be agile, I must be fast and able to move lightly. I have placed them into my bedspace in the guildhalls. They will be safe there. I thoroughly dusted and polished throughout too - in case they should return unexpectedly. I have prayed in our guild house of worship. I felt overwhelming sadness. There were so many rose wreaths there. I made sure those that were almost dust were tidied away and made a fresh one for our lady's head. I felt tears slide down my cheeks, yet did not feel them in my heart. I feel as though emotion is spent, yet the outward signs are somehow still being made. I just wish I did not feel so cold. I am so glad of my old cloak. I will be gladder too before long I imagine.

I have a worry that I cannot bring to anyone. I feel my outer shell hardening. I have not felt like that in a long time. It is not as bad as then and I do not feel in danger. But I dislike this passivity that creeps over me.

How far away and long ago does Ethucan sunshine feel. All is not lost - when I think on that, then I feel a glimmer of warmth and the smile I feel upon my face is true.