I’ve found that I have suddenly come to my senses. I don't know how long I sat in the grass for. Why would I do that? I could have at least spent my time walking the road, hoping for rescue. Instead I find myself only shaken from my stupor when I came face to face with a devil. I’ve been trying to run away, flee, but the woods are so deep and thick that I’ve only gotten myself more lost. The voices are everywhere, and I can't see the sky anymore. I hear rustling in the bushes and I see glaring red eyes everywhere I look.

There is no use in naming the devils I have seen. If they have a name, I would not dare to use it in fear of drawing one near. It was the size of a massive buck, and it was evil and terrible. It had slimy golden skin, and terrible, curled, barbed horns. It had a thin, razor-blade tail, whipping around, dripping with poison. Its claws were long, wickedly sharp, and curved enough to pluck your heart right out of your chest. Its teeth were as jagged as a saw blade, curling between its scaly lips. And it touched me. I was drifting so far away in my mind, I let it get close enough to me that its flickering, forked tongue grazed my eyelids. Its saliva is sticky as taffy, and burns like acid. I’m desperately hoping that the burning will subside, that my eyes won't be affected. Its smell was like that of the strange crystals we found in the mines long ago, but fresh. Strong. I fear

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my life is truly in danger. I don't even know what month it is, or how much time has passed. When I saw that Thing right in front of me, I bolted. I don't know which direction I came from, but now I’m surrounded by shadows, flickers, whispers. The sun is gone. Every step I take is marred by twisted roots and scraping thorns. The forest itself is hunting me, every leaf and sprig and shred of bark turned razor sharp. I’m being stalked as I write. I can hear their slow, meticulous footsteps and feel the vibration of their hearts, beating faster every second in anticipation of their kill. Blood is running from my hands and arms, my flesh torn from my dash through the thickets. I’m cowering between the roots of a great black tree, and even the insects of the forest are nearing me in a steady march. I can feel it.

The exposure to the elements is finally wearing on me. Between hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and blood loss, I fear this may be the end for me. Each second my enemies draw closer while I lose more and more strength. Somewhere in the distance I still hear that wretched, terrible song. Nobody will look for me. Not Father, no-one. I’ll remain here forever, torn apart by the evils lurking deep in the world. And I’m the one that drew them out.