The trap was sprung and all was lost. Where before all had been silence, the Forest sprang back to life. Freya and his men heard it then; the trees were laughing.
—The Parable of Freya the Foolish, final stanza
Diary of Amaranth, excerpt
The night was fitful. [NB: word scratched out] continues to follow us. Gillard and I continue to maintain the lie, but I think the others, especially the Count, are growing suspicious. It does not help that [NB: same word removed] has taken to picking off stragglers.
We were joined last night by Harold of Greystone, a mage with even more skill than the last. He came out of the woods at a dead sprint, wide eyed and covered in fresh wounds. At first we assumed him a creature of the Forest, but he did not react to applewood, silver or iron. Count Petras vouched for him, and we have reluctantly decided to trust the newcomer.
I write this as we set up camp on the cliff face. This leg of our journey, at least, is complete. Once a stronghold is built, there is hope that we could begin mining within the week. I am shocked that optimism still exists within the group.