It's my first day on the road. I tried not to say goodbye to anyone. It's all a little more fraught when you don't know if you'll make it back.

Soft cheese and fresh fruit for breakfast, things that spoil fast. Brie with rosemary: bright flavor to keep aware up here in the mountains. The fog was thick, but I tried not to slow down. It's strange having lives depend on me. I did that medication run three years back for my fellow messenger down in the swamplands, and I still don't know what was under the royal seal from the incident with the snails, but both of those felt...more important than this. And more achievable. Those felt like running down an ice sheet, where you know you'll get to the bottom, and the questions are only how fast and how safe. But going to the pyre, I know I won't make it safely unless I make it fast enough. There's folks dying somewhere, every minute I wait. But the pass is still the same. If I rush, I still have to stop to pick gravel out of my paw pads.

I'll make the valley town tomorrow. It'll be enough or it won't.

Stopped in town to resupply. Someone arrow-trapped the cemetery, of all places. The cemetery. I'd thought, those are people the eclipse can't touch! Already gone quiet in the valley fog. But I guess the soul-decayed don't really truck much with the sacred. I tried to track down the person who laid the trap, but the gravekeeper was halfway lost herself. All I could do for her was tie one of her feet to the center pole of her home, in case she was the one who did it--keep her from hurting people again. She'd do the same if she was in her right mind. Benefits of being big, strong, mountainfolk is that I didn't have to hurt her to do it. Just grab and tie.

After that, I tried to do some shopping. Got the name of a boat captain a few towns away who might be able to take me downriver, save a little time. I wanted to sell some carved wooden trinkets from back home. Had to leave the market though. Kept jumping at shadows.

I tried the market again before I left this morning. The toy seller who bought the woodcarvings had a villager doll that looked almost alive. She said it was modeled after an eras-old design her apprentice had found. Its eyes followed me when I moved. Apparently they've been selling like hotcakes. I can understand why folks would want something warm-eyed and friendly these days.

Yesterday was my last real bed for a while. The inn had fresh bread, in those odd fruitbread buns they have in the valley. A little too sweet: perfect to save for dinner after a day on the road. I'll be camping the next few days, unless I want to try my luck with villagefolk. I didn't want to risk it. The fog doesn't seem to be burning off all the way anymore.

Slept badly. I spent a while walking with a stranger, a tiny underfed foxfolk who kept singing snatches of this awful eerie tune. Couldn't muster the energy to try to be cheerful and friendly, but I guess Faelen didn't mind. Said something about how she felt safer traveling in a group. It was weird having someone be grateful for my size for once. I guess she sized me up and decided since I wasn't decayed, she'd be safer with me than traveling on her own. It was a bit unnerving. When we crossed through villages I kept my crossbow on my chest strap instead of in my bag.

Faelen offered to camp with me, but I walked on farther on my own. I have places to be.

Apparently the foxfolk legend holds that the firefolk all fell to a plague they couldn't cure, something that spread from our world to theirs. Foxfolk legend also holds that firefolk raiders used to lay siege to their villages, so maybe that biased the historical record a little. It's not like I can tell who's right from rumors and squinting at my dictionary by firelight. I did decide, though, that given all the words for weapons and and trophies and leather-curing methods, they ain't exactly vegetarian pacifists. Or they weren't, anyway.

Somehow the roads are busier than usual. I suppose everyone who isn't hiding is running. Folks're all either chatterin' like they've seen the dead, or, well. Quiet like they've seen the dead.

Ran into the Theana girls. They're both headed well and true for soul-lost. I think I'd rather have found them dead.

Unsurprisingly, they ended up the chatterin' sort of spooked. They kept talking about...scary things. What it's like being afraid. How fear changes you. Calling the eclipse natural, calling its effects inevitable. And in between, horrid bursts of familiarity. Asking after the neighbors back home, swapping their sugar for my salt. The elder kept finishing the younger's jokes. Like nothing ever happened, with that undertone that after it comes nothing will ever happen again. I took the plainsroad at the fork so I wouldn't be going their way.

The dread is starting to ride heavy on my back. Shoulda gone slow and camped with Faelen. Getting to the pyres late'd be as bad as never, but never's just as bad as late, too. And being alone on the road at night...I start to see what Faelen was talking of. Being alone's all well and good 'til you're alone in the plains trying to find a campsite where the soul-lost can't see you from the trail.