First entry
Here I sit, in hiding, to write my thoughts to you, Ola, honoured father of father. My heart still grieves for you, though it has been 5 winters since you left us. I still remember the day, that day when you did not return to the homefire. Wicked magic it must have been, which made that bear so strong, for you were the best hunter and warrior we knew.
Yes, in hiding I sit, for I do not dare share what occupies my head and my heart. I doubt any would understand, but I know that you, father of father, would not scold me, for was it not you, who told me the story of the blade, over and over, while I sat on your knees, playing with the graying whiskers of your beard, while listening, amazed at what you spoke of? I never tired of the story, and while many in our family feel worry that we share blood with the outsiders, for me it was an endless source of wonder. What had he been like, that father of many fathers since? Tall, the stories say, very tall, a man of far away lands, a noble man and warrior, loyal to his king, yet his heart still had room for our mother of many mothers since.
It was you, oh great Ola, and the stories, who instilled the longing in me to know more about those people from far away lands, but now that you are gone, the blade itself has begun to whisper and sing to me. It is not a voice like the voices of ours around the homefires, but more like the singing of the wind, carrying words to me, broken off, yet I know their meaning in my heart.
I have been called, father of father. I know not by whom, whether the sword itself is calling to me, or the ghost of the one who left it with us, but I have been shown terrors, far greater still than the evils of the wicked Witchking. An eye, I have seen, oh beloved Ola. A huge eye, lidless and in flames, and it seemed to stare at me, as if it knew of me, and I felt fear as I have never felt before.
Yet I also knew, while it's gaze rested upon me, that I am destined to fight it.
That I must take the blade to the far away lands, to aid those who are facing this most terrible of all foes.
I saw that eye 4 winters ago in a dream, and since then, father of father, I have been secretly taking the sword when all were sleeping, so that my arms could grow the strength to wield it. It has sliced and slain the ice and snow around, and now I finally feel ready to take it to those lands from whence it came to us.
Yet now that my time to leave the homefire behind, has drawn so close, I wish I had never heard the stories, nor the calling. I am but a girl, oh mighty Ola, and how can I stand against that terror, which surely will need countless armies of men as strong as you, to defeat?
Still, I know I must go, and I have begun to stow away provisions for my journey, and to pack what belongings appear sensible to carry with me. They would try to stop me, and it would be love guiding them, but also fear and resentment of those lands not like ours. I had another dream, and that one came to me only two nights ago. In that dream, I was riding home. I was carried by a horse with fine fur, much too short for ice and snow, and I rode through forests and passed open plains, alien to all we know. Eventually I felt the familiar cold biting my nose, and saw the glowing lights above in the sky. I was so happy to return, but then I passed the first homefires of our people, and they looked at me in unveiled distrust. I tried to speak, but could not form the words, and they pointed at the distance, back to where I had come from. Outsider, they mumbled, over and over, and I felt tears freeze against my skin.
I think the dream is telling me I will survive, yet nothing will be the same there after. It hurts and frightens me, but my mind it changes not. I have to obey the calling, and I am ready to leave. Will take Nashoba with me. He would not willingly stay behind, alarm everyone to my plans, and so my journey shall become his journey just the same.
Oh great Ola, father of father, I hope your spirit is allowed to watch over me. It shall be a great source of comfort and courage for me, to imagine you near, even if I can not see you.
Your Aiska, daughter of son
