Frost last night, and even I didn't enjoy sleeping on the ground. Was sore and shivering when I woke up, and haven't got much better since. I know it might be a little warmer around Farmington, but this is an early frost no matter what. I worry about the pears.
The land is queer here, a sort of dryness to it. O, there's water. Little cricks and even bogs sometimes between the hills. But the land feels like it's waiting to suck the life out of you. It's sandy, with rocky hills and scrawny trees. We left the good farmland a day and a half ago, and even the middling farmland is gone now. This is wasteland.
We were hoping to be in Tine Gorge by this evening, but either it's farther or we're slower than we thought. We went all day today without seeing any traffic on the road, though we did see a broken, empty and abandoned wagon beside the road. No signs of fighting.
Tonight we're bedding down in a dilapidated ruin of a cottage. I don't like it. It's bad luck. But it'll keep Gunther out of the wind, which is good for him, and hide our fire from view, which is good for all of us. There haven't been serious bandit threats in Frank County in my lifetime, but if there's anyplace that might change it's the Snakeback Hills.
The spruce trees are thick and I'm going to cut more than a few switches to make a nest before bed. Keep my back off the ground and stay warm, maybe. Suppose I'll suggest it to the others, too.
O yeah, and we brought down a very small pterodon this morning. Almost had two but one got away--they can gain height in a hurry. Anyway we have enough meat for today and tomorrow. It's tough and hard to chew but full of oil and flavour. We drew lots and I won one of the claws, so I know what I'm talking about.
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