I don’t know how many days it has been. I feel as if I had been walking for entire years. Writing is the only thing that helps me stay sane in this frozen wasteland. I had taken the steam train from Paris to Munich. That was a week ago. For the past 7 days, I have been on foot. My destination? I’m no longer sure.

It’s starting to snow again. I was lucky to find shelter in this alcove on the mountainside. All I see are white fields and trees. It’s quite beautiful. Endless space - devoid of human life as far as the eyes can see. It's peaceful here, with none of that city noise. An occasional bird, the sound of wolves at night. It’s unsettling but quite majestic at the same time.

I wonder sometimes if I’m going to die here. Will I make it to my original destination? I feel have strayed hopelessly of course. I’ve walked too far to go back, not that I would know the way to go. Will I die here? Never see London, my father, my mother. Why am I here? Why did I leave home? I guess I’m a fool. But I have a dream that I want to fulfill. A sort of promise that must keep. I promised someone important to me that I would become an Alchemist. Although when I made that promise I had no idea it would be near impossible.

My father is a doctor. My grandfather was a doctor. The father of my grandfather was a doctor. I think you see what I mean. I too was going to be a doctor. But things changed. Let’s just say my family wasn’t too happy about my decision to switch professions. I cannot rely on them for money and Alchemy is not cheap to learn. So here I am in the middle of nowhere — trying to find a master alchemist who would take me on as an apprentice without money or any prior knowledge of the subject.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I’ve been rejected so far by everyone I’ve gone to. My last hope is some old story that I’m not even sure is true. There are rumors about a famous alchemist who retired somewhere around here — away from cities and people. Somebody like that probably doesn’t want to be found or disturbed. My last hope looks more and more like the last disappointment. Besides, I might not even live long enough to find him.

I left Munich with a caravan. Three days of travel there was an avalanche. I ran, thankfully got away without getting caught up it. Unfortunately, I got lost soon after. The landscape changed because of the avalanche. While I tried to find my way back I somehow managed to end up further away. I’ve lived in London my whole life —never traveled further than the country house on the outskirts of the city. I should have expected as much.

If I had been following my map correctly, I would have happened upon a town in a couple of days. It was supposed to be a two-week journey following the road. I still have food and provided the temperature doesn’t drop any further I believe I should make it. If not then this might be the last thing I’ll ever write. It most certainly is if I don’t get moving soon. I can barely feel my finger inside the gloves now. I have no means to make a fire unless I make it to the trees in the distance. I need to get there by nightfall