Ruevir

Entry the fourth.

I will first say that I am very sorry that my intrusion, the one occasion I did not think to knock, was timed so poorly. I hope nothing ill comes of your wound, or otherwise.

[Underneath one of Bíld's prettily-drawn filigrees is a drawing of a Man's body, the skeleton showing through an outline of flesh. The hand that rendered it is neither that of a skilled anatomist or pen-and-ink artist; it does, however, function as a reasonably clear schematic. The most attention and detail has been given to the long bones, which each have a measurement listed next to them.

Entry the second.

Before aught else I must apologize for my shameful display. I did not expect my emotions to get so far out of hand, and I am vastly embarrassed. It must have been a mortification for you to watch as well, and I am very sorry. I felt your patience and compassion and am truly appreciative. May you not have to offer them again!

[A filigree is drawn as a divider.]

I have never been very good at lying.  I mean, of course I have always been very good at weaving and twisting stories into a soft blanket to cushion the gaping hole away from prying eyes, but directly lying is a different things.  However, despite my inability to lie, I have always had a very proficient ability to cover the truth and to hide reality from not only others, but often from myself.  Ever since I watched Reuben suck in his last, pained breath, I seem to have begun to struggle hiding my own self from reality.

It's a good thing that Jack awoke me before dawn this morning, though I was irritated at first with his incessant stomping and snorting outside the door. The fair weather has him restless and wanting to move about, and though I snapped at him to take his gargantuan black and white hide away from the house, I have to feel rather grateful now, as I have much to record here before I start my day's work. 

Oh, where to begin? I think I must've encountered half of Bree last night, in the space of just a few hours.