Jatkai left this morning. I thanked him profusely for having saved my life, and he reciprocated his thanks for my having nursed his concussion after the quake. After a few awkward pauses, I told him that perhaps he’d be better off not being in the path of whatever whirlwind it is that seems bent on crushing me.

He laughed, thinking that perhaps I was joking. Only I don’t think I could have been more serious at all in my life. I am deeply troubled. There is no space in my mind right now for this sort of foolishness. Dauneth is gone, as is his calming influence. My father is gone, and the acrid taste of his loss won’t leave my mouth.

I helped Jatkai collect supplies. I spent the morning ambling through the market silently with him. And then, as quickly as he appeared that day on the road from Felwood, he was gone.

They are all gone. All the men in my life, they will go. They will die, or they will falter, or they will leave. And so I sent him away, so as to not watch him become yet another casualty.

This was the right decision.