Page 3

Milk
Eggs
Lynx whisker
Antipoison
Flint



Again with this damnable fog. It’s ill luck to do much within in, that’s where shades and spirits tend to dwell. They’ll grab you with their icy hands of wandering undeath and that’s the last of you.

Nevertheless, the monk and I rode out through it again to the nearby village. Although this time I purchased a mock image of a sea dwelling beast. The large boat eating kind with eight arms. This imitation of it seems quite harmless though.

Not much changed today from yesterday. As it should be.

Tomorrow I believe I’ll travel with the monk to seek out an old friend

The sun gets weary and the sun goes down, as does my pen, as is fate.

Thursday, January 7th, 2010