Eight wooden tiles tied together with some string creates this star chart on one side and some notes on the other. The notes were engraved appear to be old both in writing and appearance. The passage of time slowly eats away the markings on each of these tiles. The wood seems to be delicate and giving off a moldy smell. Over the writings are written in ink and in common.I feel funny writing on this. It feels wrong. However, I have nothing else to write on and I'm sure the people of Adinídíín will not mind since this is a gift to me from them. Regardless, I feel these carvings are special somehow. Like I am desecrating over some prayer. I guess I must suffer the consequences, one that I am willing to pay in order to write something down. I sit now near my dying campfire, my hands violently shaking and slowly turning into stone from the harsh blizzard that came all of a sudden. I can feel my blood becoming solid and I fear that I will die soon. Here, in the untouched mountains. The very mountains I was told not to venture in, but in my foolish youth, I denied their warnings. The elves are superstitious beings, and perhaps a little too trusting in old traditions, but they were right about one thing, I'm the most foolish wizard they have ever met. I had a feeling they wanted this star chart to be lost in this snowy terrain and I am the fool who will bring it out here. I just thought they were being overly generous, which isn't known to be one of their racial traits. Come to think of it, they were laughing at a joke as soon as I left, but I couldn't make out the joke in their traditional language. I like the smell of apricots or was it Wood Fruit. Both are tasty right before they are burnt. My mother will be worried. I can tell her I'll be fine once I get to meet her again. Again. Once I... I can't read my own writing. . I can see light in the distant. Maybe othr travlrs. Then quick. Constellations. Doors underneath. Uknown doors. doors. Am I writing? Can't feel. I will go and meet the other travels.. .