It was too much to ask, I suppose, expecting to return home so soon to find everyone and everything had mostly returned to normal. My dear friend, Jon Brackenbrook, told me of the continuing struggles with the Blackwolds that the village endures. Tragically, as I came to my family’s old farm, I discovered that it and the surrounding land had become overrun by foul spiders. This poor soul had stayed behind to fight for what was newly his and was felled before his dream had even begun to take root.
Should this have been my fate, I wonder? Was it my cowardice that allowed me to live while braver souls perished to give me the choice to flee? Should I have stayed by Father’s side that terrible night?
That was not his wish, most certainly. As I ponder these things, I am beginning to realize that I must make my life worth the sacrifices that so many others have made for me. But how will I ever be able to do such a thing? I haven’t the strength to don a suit of armor and wield a sword to rage against such injustices. I haven’t the mind of an elder or a sage, who are both wise and thoughtful and able to devise clever solutions to so many of life’s problems.
I am just a poor farmgirl without a farm and a daughter with no mother or father.