Michael is very sick. The weather has turned cold, and our wounds have not been healing as well as we thought they would. We have decided that we are going to make a detour to a small village called Aspira. Its a village where most go to pick fresh fruits and vegetables, and find the finest meats. My father used to speak of the town when he would go on his journeys. He used to call it "the land of kings" because all things there were fit for a king.
Aspira is not too far away, but Michael is now coughing blood, and the burnt skin on my back is now starting to fall off. Once we get to the open path, it will lead us to Aspira. It should take us no longer than a day to get there.
Now I must go hunt. We expect to eat deer again tonight, and drink the muddy waters from the puddles after today’s rain. Tomorrow, we will drink from flowing springs, and be treated by the finest doctors. Tonight, hope is what keeps us alive.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
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