It was 4 months ago to the day that I left Nogvorut.
I was alone. Circumstance and Necessity stripped me of everyone I loved. So after such a time, it is odd to be surrounded by company again. It is even stranger to find myself enjoying the company, at times. Not all of them are so unbearable. Perhaps there is a silver lining in that, despite the task that lay before me.
We have spent twelve days on the road. Travel is slower when there are so many, and some of us do not seem as accustomed to long marches. Most nights I dream of Fionn and Róisín. Some dreams are happy, but in others I relive variations of that terrible night. One night I must have had no dreams at all, so deeply I must have slept. When we reached the caravan stop ran by a pair of dryads, we were reunited with our fellow competitors from Jigow. The water genasi, Io, is a welcome, kindred spirit.
Tomorrow we expect to reach Bazzoxan. First we must cross a wretched area known as the Barbed Fields--from what the dryads tell us, it truly must represent the worst of this vile region. I hope there I will find more answers to Fionn's whereabouts. And I pray to Pelor that he is still living.