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(Hastily written entry, some parts are unreadable as blood and rainfall blurred the letters.)
Goblins, these parts of the mountains are crawling with them. There are wounded, there is hardly time to recover. The white snow has our blood on it. Blo** for blood. We r***ed the Andui*, *** ** **** . The mountain cross was not easy, but we made it through alive. How can I keep her safe !? If I had known she was preg****, I wo*** **ve stayed in Bree!
A hazy night dimmed over the sleeping woods of Thinglad, the bare branches of the trees swaying in the chilly Breeze. Daerundros frowns as she slouches a fine bit, lazily grazing over the wood with her proud, fierce Mare, which tosses it's head in pride, despite her attention being, at large, ever-vigilant against whatever be her foe, for she knew that something was moving against her.