I suppose I should have been more careful. I suppose I shouldn’t have traveled alone. I suppose I should have remembered that I am not invincible. I’ve seen much and brought down threatening foes, but I’ve never performed such heroic acts on my own, and all these years of being buffered by the strength of numbers has made me very, very complacent.

It almost meant my end tonight. On the way through to safe territory, I was attacked and left for dead by the side of the road.

A mon I do not know has saved my life. He calls himself Jatkai. He is not a Darkspear, but he has come for the same purpose as I.

Why has a complete stranger saved my life? And risked his own, for that matter? We are now vulnerable here. I am half dead. We are a few miles from the Zoram Strand, where a witchdoctor supposedly dwells and will be able to treat me.

I scrawl this slowly and painfully in the low light. I worry that this will be my last living record, as I am badly injured but curiously lucid.

Why should I trust this mon implicitly?

Am I going to live?