Since our caravan has split into two, every day feels more desperate. How I wish Queen Jezmina had stayed — her grace and beauty would be a much-needed balm. Just yesterday I heard Lazlo sobbing in his tent.
We saw signs of survivors at a Flame Sanctum. It was a whole day's diversion — and for nothing. Despite the Shroud encroaching on them, these fools do not feel the need to join our ranks. Let them pray to their Ancients and see how long they survive. We must stay on track. . . Pikemead's Reach is weeks away.