Whether or not I want to, I am forced to listen to my new master's entire life story as we ramble through meadow and wood. In any case it is actually a needed distraction from my burning questions. Why did my sister attack me? Why did she not speak? Who killed the Archmage? How am I supposed to have been responsible? And why was I not so much as spoken to, just dropped in a hole to rott. Far too much for me to even start to unravel for now so I resign myself to the rambling of my new companion.

Her early life actually sounded quite lovely. Plain and simple but quite lovely indeed. A basic farm life with parents who were very in love and nurtured her and her brothers and sister. I find myself starting to enjoy her tales of; corralling livestock with her siblings, catching fish by hand straight from the stream at the base of one of their fields and watching the sunfall nightly as a family round a fire. I do envy that life, they had no wealth to speak of. But, that life of theirs had something maybe of immeasurable value, a closeness I have never felt. This is the first time i have heard someone's story to compare, who isn't from a similar circumstance of family of course. I realise now how my family have always been phantoms really compared to the depth of the closeness of their bond to their duty. I know not one of my house as she knew hers. Ha, jealous of a farmer's daughter, never could I have predicted that. Unfortunately my jealousy subsides as she details the event that shattered her life. How men chained them, ate their livestock, burnt their grain and killed them, one by one. All that is but her, they told her they thought it only right they spare the middle child as her suffering would be 'unparalleled'. However, they needed her to suffer, her pain was instrumental in their plan. She was to be used as a catalyst for a summoning, so they proceeded to carve a plethora of runes into her and start the ritual. However it seems they fucked that up to a large degree. 'they summoned up nothin' but a power an rath in me I'd never been touched by' she killed them, just as they did her kin, one by one. Moreover, the last of the men she claims died over three seasons after she started torturing them. I now fear this girl quite immeasurably I must say, I am not sure I made the correct decision here. I tell myself it was only because of the circumstances she was so cruel. Though, as she continues I find it is not the case, she is indeed a cruel person. Though it seems exclusively towards individuals of a deserving nature, if you discount her rudeness of course. So she is not completely unhinged I suppose, just, morally ajar. I can hear the smile on her face as she walks ahead of me regaling me with her twisted tale. Yes, actually hear her smile, the tightness of her cheeks squeezing her words as she looses them. Wandering westward from the place she had gown, the farm she had known her whole life, was not all that tough of a deed after the horrors she had experienced. Her journey led her out of Ojai into the Duns Orilium, a gigantic ocean of sand known for swallowing countless people over the centuries. Caravans of merchants, expeditions of scholars, even entire legions of well trained soldiers have disappeared in the vastness of this desert. There is a shifting tide in the Orilium, the very sand is said to be alive. Yet, Y'eula Sae Dost with no supplies, walked into the Duns and found a cave. Then food and water came to her, so she says. The desert simply provided by depositing her requirements on the shifting tide at the mouth of her cave, her little island in a silicon sea. A ridiculous and preposterous yarn indeed. Although with the assumably small display of her power it gives me pause to simply dismiss some of her incredulous claims. However, there is no gap of breath for me to interject, she is racing now, her pace with words and foot have progressively increased throughout her story. But, now she has lifted both her feet from the ground, continuously gaining in her lead further. To keep up I am at a sprint and i'm straining to hear her words, despite her shouting her story for the entire countryside to hear. Not hearing me or ignoring my protests more like, I have no option but to continue to follow at this ever increasing rate. I know not whether this is a test of mind or the physical, but it is trying to a great degree in both regards. Well, I do not think it will kill me and it is a better state of circumstance than being alone and unequipped with a bounty on your head.

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