For the first time in a while, the clouds have lifted over me.  My mind is my own, and I slept through the night (and most of the morning) without a single nightmare.

I can't say I was at my strongest, but I'd had enough waiting around, and so we went to Moonglade yesterday to see about purging the remnants of magic from the runes.  The druids bound me and performed some ritual or other.  All I know is my blood turned to fire and a great crushing weight surrounded my mind, pushing inward.  I nearly blacked out.  It was all I could do to stay conscious, holding onto that small cinder of light against the oppressive darkness.  All I could hear was the voice, screaming at me that I would never be free of it, that I was forever His to do with as he pleased, that there was no escape from his grasp.  And then it all drained away, the pressure, the pain, the voice, and I was left with silence, light, and incredible exhaustion.

I'm still not that steady on my feet and promised Seb I'd take it easy today as a result, but I'm absolutely sick of doing nothing, so I've started designing out our hut.  It will be one of the larger designs, I think -- enough to have a couple dividers for rooms as we need them.  Tomorrow I'll head to Mojache to chat about lumber for the supports and the floor, and then it's off to Ghost Walker to talk to that leatherworker about a healthy supply of cured kodo hides and bindings.  We've been living out of my tent long enough; it's time for a proper home.  I need to consult with her about what sort of furnishings she'd like.

Seb is holding up well, despite dealing with her sister's death.  She confessed to me that she can't summon the Light to her aid, however.  There's no doubt in my mind that she's placed that block on herself.  She said herself that she thinks herself a bad person.  The Sebrawyn I originally met was confident in her place in the world and the good she did.  It's only natural that her ability to summon the Light would go hand in hand with how righteous she feels about her actions -- they were intrinsically tied together in her eyes.  I hope she comes to terms with it all.  She made the right decision.  One day she may come to accept that, and perhaps the Light will return to her then.

And if she never gets past that, she may have a future as a tracker.  She has more natural talent at hunting than I think she's willing to admit, and her ability to bring home game is improving every day.  She can be very careful and attentive.  And Ghost seems to be responding to her very well -- her confidence in communicating with him grows.

All in all, I'm simply glad this seems to be coming to a close at last.  Now we can focus on moving forward: there is a hut to build and a ceremony to plan.

(Folded into the book are crude ink sketches of a wide tauren hut from multiple angles, including a floorplan.)

I still feel like I'm straining to pull myself out of a pit into wakefulness.  The gods-damned potion is still clinging stubbornly despite the fact that it's nearly noon. It's difficult to focus on anything.  Still, I should write.

We were visited by a dead troll that Seb called Dree Dri, who had apparently been in love with Serenthiel.  When we told him she was dead -- when Seb told him she'd been the one to do the deed -- he didn't react beyond forgiving her.  Either he didn't truly love Serenthiel or this is an undead thing, and just further proves how unnatural they are.  When confronted by the one who killed your lover, shouldn't you be angry?  Shouldn't you be upset?  Shouldn't you show something that isn't deadpan emotion with a bit of a stammer?  There's maintaining a cool surface, and then there's that.  What an alien, miserable existence.  I could have said something about her final days -- I'm best suited to talk about them, after all -- but I didn't think it would serve to mention that she never once said a thing about an undead troll.  Never mentioned his name.  Made overtures toward me, in fact, in her cracked way.  But that information does no one good, and it's best to stay buried with her.

He left without incident, and Seb was left to face what she'd done all over again.  There is something markedly different about seeing the consequences of your actions through others.  You know how it affects you and how your world changes, but to see someone else hurt by what you've done... it makes you take a step back and look at it again.  You can't ignore it.  I spent the time reassuring her that she was not a bad person for taking action when faced with a horrible choice, but I know my words can only do so much.  I see it in her every day, something she's never truly done to this extent: she doubts herself.  At every turn, she's second-guessing her actions.  I don't know if she'll ever be as self-assured again, but I hope at the least she finds a way to be comfortable with the choice in time.  I'm doing everything I can think of to lead her to that point.

Yesterday evening we went to the Bluff to have my wounds checked and to see how Ephe was faring.  I felt the pain she had initially and knew it was her hand, but it's worse than I thought.  Either it's trying to take her over or her body is outright rejecting the foreign flesh.  I'd forgotten how it looked, but seeing the black pincers... it brought a great deal back.  I offered to try and mend it, but failed -- the power in her hand certainly isn't dormant anymore, and considering how hard it pushed back on the mending, it seems to be more than a simple rejection.  Something very wrong is happening to that woman's arm, and it needs to be stopped.  Soon.  I suggested she visit with proper Sunwalkers and Seers and have them try their best to cleanse it -- lying if she has to.  No matter what, the situation needs to be resolved and soon.  If I must, I will cut her arm off.  I'll kill her, if that's what it takes -- I know she'd do the same for me.  Whatever happens, it must not be allowed to take her.

And that leads me to last night, where I took a dreamless sleep potion.  I woke up -- after some struggle -- this morning and I seem to be myself, so perhaps nothing happened.  Or perhaps that's what it wants me to think.  I seem to recall mentioning something about listening to the whispers to Ephe, and gods, that's about the worst advice I could ever give her.  I thought I was holding strong, but maybe my defenses haven't been as impenetrable as I thought.  The notion scares me out of my mind.  How can I fight against something like this if I can't be certain of my own integrity?

I should focus on getting my strength up.  The sooner the purge of the runes happens, the better.

I hate being injured.  I hate waiting around for my wounds to knit.  I hate barely being able to go an hour or two without feeling crippling pain shock through me.  I hate being helpless to fix anything.  I hate being unable to truly hold Seb as the tide of sorrow threatens to overtake her.

She wants to hear hope, not despair, and I understand why.  Gods only know I do.  She's had enough sadness in her life of late.  I'd love to be able to turn my thoughts purely to our joining and what lies after, the construction of our hut, the life we plan to build.

But there's a shadow I can't shake, and it isn't mine.  The tendrils still creep around in my mind, seeking purchase.  I'm on tenterhooks waiting for a bad sign from Ephe through the stone.  And even beyond the immediate, the knowledge that it's not over... I can't bring myself to be joyous.  That darkness will be lurking in my life for months to come.  Years.  Who knows when it will end?  I once managed to push it aside and ignore it, but that goes against wisdom.

Still, I can't have it looming forever, dwelling in its shadow and shaping me.  I will banish these whispers.  I will sleep soundly again.  I will heal until the runes are nothing more than faint white scars under my fur and the fire is a distant memory.  I will not let this dread control who I am.  I spent so much time shying away and running from it in the past, ignoring it and letting it erode everything around me.  No more.  I will be a bulwark against it.

Seb is trying to be strong for me, but I can see how hard this is on her.  She didn't harden herself against it, and it threatens to drown her every so often.  She cares for my wounds, hunts for our food, and makes certain I want for nothing as I recover.  We had a few spare moments of normalcy last night that fled once the pain came back -- I long for the day when laughter isn't a stranger here.  I miss hearing hers and seeing her whole face light up.

Now to try and get more sleep.  Maybe the dreams won't come back this time.

I don't know where to start.

I feel like I've dodged a fate crafted particularly for me, a waiting mold someone lovingly carved awaiting it to be filled.  As I sit here, recovering, unable to escape it, I can't help but be confronted by a bitter truth:

Nothing ever ends.

( So goes No's horrible week. )

It seems we have a new member of the family.  Seb killed a wolf in self-defense during her hunt and found its single white cub nearby.  She didn't have the heart to leave it there and so she brought it back instead.  With her gentle and compassionate nature, it was bound to happen at some point; I only hope it doesn't become a trend.

The little beast, who she named Ghost, has been acting just as a pup should act: marking everything, chewing everything, demanding every bit of her time.  When I'm on watch I give him some cursory attention, but I want him to bond to Seb, not me.  I'm teaching her everything I know about leading an animal to trust you and do as you ask.  He's a very typical cub, smart and willful, and getting him to do anything he doesn't immediately want to do is like pulling teeth.  It's an exercise in patience and how much you actually want to keep a little hellion like that around.

While she was initially thinking of returning him to the wild when she's old enough, I suggested bonding with him as some tauren do, and I believe she's considering it.  He needs to trust her first, of course, and that's going to take time.  Still, I think she'll find dealing with him far easier once she has a stronger connection to him.  I think the wolf incident harmed her confidence on the hunt a bit -- a companion who is also a born hunter will help reestablish that.  His eyes, ears, and nose can be a powerful tool for her.

And perhaps most important of all, our tent will no longer smell like wolf piss.

Still keeping watch.  Still looking out for some nameless thing.  I'm reminded of the rare times I've been ambushed and dragged off without having a chance to raise the alarm, and it doesn't fill me with confidence.  It could just as easily happen to Seb, too.  At least Ghost won't like it if some strange sound or smell comes near the tent.  He'll alert us, most likely.

Gods, in some way I just want that woman to show her face already so we can get this nonsense over with.

I wonder if anyone still remembers the sight of me in a cultist robe.

It was a fool's game, just a costume for me.  I was never a true part of the cult.  But I wore the robes I claimed off a cultist's back and paraded about as one for a day in the time before the Old Gods had become a sickening part of my everyday life.  I was such an idiot.

And now Ren -- I assume -- sends me one with a note in the gibberish only cultists and madmen understand.  Innocuous things can be trapped with magic.  There was no telling what would happen if I burned it or, gods forbid, put it on.  Even shredding it into ribbons made me nervous.  It now sits in a hole far from where we camp, and good riddance to it -- but I can't be at ease.  There's no telling what magics were in use.  She could be spying on us now through some bug that was hidden in its folds for all I know.  Bella had something to do with insects.

I don't know what she's playing at.  Obviously she wants to set me on edge, but I cannot fathom where she'll go from here.  I've stayed alive this long through cunning -- I think through the clear next moves of my foes and avoid being surprised.  I don't see how this leads to her goal, however.  Now I'm more alert and no more inclined to be C'thun's toy than before.  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised -- I poorly predicted her actions when we were arguing, too.  How can you predict the moves of a zealous madwoman?  I hate waiting to react to what strikes from the dark.  I'd much rather be taking action, or at least preparing for what I know is coming.  But I know nothing.  I'm forced to wait for the next surprise to pounce.  Once again I'm helpless to do anything to fix the situation and I loathe it.

At this point I have being helpless to act down to an artform.  I was going through the motions of trying to alleviate Seb's burden and internalize my own so I don't drive both of us mad when she objected and called me a hypocrite for doing so.  We argued for a time about it.  When you're helpless like this, the hypothetical situations and blame without resolution can consume you if you're not careful.  I know I'm prone to brooding, but the last thing I want is to see Seb's enthusiasm and brilliance dim because she's weighed down by this heavy burden that has no release.  I failed to protect everyone in the past and I am determined not to make that mistake again, but perhaps I was holding on too tightly.  I know she can handle herself.  I'd just prefer that she'd be free to worry about the ceremony, instead, without all of this bogging her down with nowhere to go.

Finding someone to perform that, incidentally, is going to be a chore.  I have a very short list of people I'd like to invite, and I have to cobble together an outfit of some sort.  We have to find a location, too.  And I still need to scout out a place for us to settle properly...

If only these could be our biggest concerns.

It turns out that I wasn't the only one thinking about Pook.  Last night, Seb asked after her, questioning what I would do if Pook returned.

It is a subject I have thought about a great deal.

Pook was never satisfied keeping to one man.  Throughout our entire relationship, she loved and longed for Erunamo.  It caused more problems and tensions than I ever admitted, even to myself.  After the affair came to light, there was always a strained undercurrent to our marriage.  Every time he was mentioned, every time he showed his face, things became tense and uncomfortable.  No matter her promise or vow, she still thought of him as hers.

When I demanded she choose between us and she chose me, I remember being tempted to cast it all aside anyway.  I think I knew, then, that she would never truly be happy holding to one man.  But spite overwhelmed sense.  No matter how hurt I was, I was bound and determined to make Erunamo hurt far worse.  He'd no doubt thought of the wonderful end that his affair coming to light would bring: the two of them frolicking off in the sunset.  No, he'd played a part in making it all happen, and I was going to see him suffer.  So I kept her.  I kept her like a covetous miser and watched Erunamo spiral into depression and despair.  We found some semblance of happiness again as I believed we would, but it was never the same.  I knew too much, and she knew that something wasn't quite right.

I should have let her go then.  I should have let her be with the man she had broken our vows to be with.  I should have told her to her face that she was welcome to have as many partners as she chose, but I would not be a part of it.  That I would rather she be who she was than try to fit some mold she felt she had to cram herself into.  We would both have been better off.  And I would have likely still been a part of the children's lives, even then; I was still their father regardless.

I told Seb only a small bit of that -- she didn't need to hear me talk all night about an old relationship.  I told her the truth: I would tell Pook that I've since moved on and that she should pursue happiness in the way she felt best.  I would ask to be part of the children's lives if they still lived, but our marriage, such as it was, had been broken long before she disappeared into the sea.  It reassured her, I think.  Seb is not a replacement or a projection of my former relationships -- she is a wonderful woman all her own, and I am glad every day to have her.



When all is said and done, were our positions reversed, Pook would have been seeking solace in Erunamo's arms inside of a week anyway.

She said yes.

I truly surprised her with the question as we stood above the trees of Feralas, and that little moment where she was speechless was both adorable and terrifying.  But in the end, after taking her on a long journey through the area to do precisely what she'd been wanting to do, she looked at me and agreed to be my lifemate.

There's a small, dark voice within me that whispers of betrayal.  I was mated before and had children of it.  But it's been well over a year's time with no sign of her, and were our places switched, she would have given up long before I did.  I will remember her always, but I cannot keep dwelling in the past and pining for someone who won't walk back out of the sea.

Sebrawyn is my present and future.  She is my guiding light, and her enthusiasm for life and bright outlook on things is truly precious.  I look forward to building a life with her wherever we settle.  I look forward to seeing the woman she makes of herself as she questions what she knows and slowly finds answers.  I'll be there to support and protect her at all costs.  No plot of her sister's will tear us apart.

And finally she can consult on elven customs when it comes to the joining ceremony.  Guessing what is too much or too little is blessedly out of my hands.

The future looks promising and bright for once, and I will destroy any darkness that threatens it.

More explanations and confessions from the past, and still she hasn't abandoned me.  Still, it's the tinge of regret that makes those terrible things tolerable.  One day I may do something she finds abhorrent that I don't regret at all.  That's when our relationship will be sorely tested.  Not that I plan to do anything to get that out of the way, mind, but her sister might force my hand regardless.  It will always be in the back of my mind, but I can't keep questioning it -- certainly not openly.  Dwelling in doubt is one of the surest ways to slowly poison this, and I do believe she's being completely honest with me.  I don't doubt her belief.  And perhaps I shouldn't doubt her limits either, considering how far she's come and how much she's questioning what she was told for so long.

I suppose it's on my mind because of the question I plan to pose.  Considering the confused looks I was getting with my less than subtle digs for information, I should do it sooner rather than later.

While visiting Ratchet for a few supplies only goblins provide, I happened by the Kodo and ran into Idith.  She may be dead, but her brain doesn't seem to have rotted yet, and so I took her aside and asked about elven courtship rituals.  For a while she went on about what she would want.  In fact, she didn't give me much of a thorough explanation at all, truth be told.  She made a great many assumptions that I already knew the rituals when she was talking.  If I knew them, why would I be asking?

What I got out of the conversation was the following:

- The day should be memorable.

- The elf man gives the elf woman a ring.  (Another ring?  They use them in the marriage ceremonies too.  Why the obsession with rings?)

- The elf man kneels down before her to give it to her.  (That makes no sense whatsoever.)

Well, a memorable day is something I can do, now that I'm armed with the knowledge of what she'd like to do if given the choice.  Idith mentioned that Seb would likely be fine with my traditions, but she's compromised enough.  I bought a ring from a goblin that I think is right for the occasion.  I'll just have to prepare the picnic.

Today will be an interesting day, one way or another.

Gods damn it all.

I'm writing this during my watch.  My nose will tell me if she's near far before my eyes will anyway.  That we need to post a watch at all is indicative of how much what happened today unsettled us both.

Sebrawyn's sister, Serenthiel, found me at Ghost Walker.  She may not be a ranger, but anyone with a brain and a little coin can track people through the settlements they've visited.  I hadn't been covering my tracks -- thinking there was no need -- but I clearly should have been more paranoid.  She started babbling some nonsense about how I didn't fit into the equation and we wordlessly agreed to take our confrontation away from curious braves.

Alone in the valley, the two of us began talking.  There was no Seb to distract her or cause me to pull my punches -- just an insane cultist woman and I.  I lured her in with tales of power and bombarded her with the consequences, telling her of Bella's desperate plea for death and my own experiences.  But the sad, deluded little idiot never was that deep in the cult and her jealousy surged to the fore.  She screeched that we'd squandered our gifts and opportunities, and in our place she would have done anything C'thun asked her to do.  In the midst of our yelling at each other -- and after I slapped her -- she got a strange look in her eye and declared that her path was clear: she was to bring me back to C'thun and into the cult fold.  I swore she would never do such a thing and tried to incapacitate her, but she changed her form into something with wings and escaped.

I explained all of this to Seb when I returned and she made declarations of her own, saying that whatever walked around in Ren's skin wasn't truly her sister any longer.  But Seb isn't that callous at the heart of her.  Faced with actually killing her sister, she would hesitate -- unless circumstances were extreme, such as my death being imminent.  Even if I do it, I suspect there will always be that lingering doubt.  What if she could have been talked down from her insanity?  What if she could have been cured if we'd just given her the chance?  It has the possibility of poisoning a great deal.

Gods, even just the thought of her succeeding makes me ill.  I cannot bear the thought of that THING sliding around my mind again.  She has not seen my fury.  I will fight with everything I possess to prevent her mad scheme from coming to fruition.  I've given no promise not to kill her.  It was the voice of the Old Gods that caused tauren to sink into darkness and the Earthmother to tear out her eyes.  I may not be the most devout and dedicated of Sunwalkers, but even I can appreciate the poetry in using his power against this menace.  If she comes for me she will die at my hooves, shrieking as An'she's light burns her from the inside out.

I will NOT be taken into the cult.



Seb's slept long enough.  It's a bit past when I promised to wake her, but I wouldn't have been able to rest in any case.  Time to find some semblance of peace for a few hours.

Whenever someone confesses to me that they're coming to doubt the tenets on which they've based their life, there's always a thrill of temptation that runs through me.  What they're saying without realizing it is that they're fresh clay, waiting to be molded into a new shape.

For a long time (to belabor the metaphor) my hands were red with that clay.  I shaped so many into different people, believing what I wanted them to believe.  I know the craft well.  It's more than words.  You have to be able to present situations in a light that is favorable to the worldview you present, and I was good at it.  Very good.

Seb asked me tonight if I enjoyed hunting down my prey during my time in the tribe, and I responded honestly: I did.  I knew she had reason for asking and that she likely knew the answer already.  But gods, I'm glad she didn't follow it up by asking if I also enjoyed shaping the malleable minds of others into what I desired, because there would be no right answer.  I did enjoy it, of course, but telling her so would cast everything I say and do -- everything I've said and done -- into doubt.  And lying about it... she'd know, I imagine, or wonder about the answer enough to cause doubt anyway.

She's truly begun to question everything she once accepted as truth, and I'm determined to let her find her own path on this.  My ears are deaf to the siren call to guide her.  If what we have is going to work, it needs to be her as an independent and free person -- not some puppet I've made.  I only hope I haven't inadvertently done damage already.

After all, it isn't as if I didn't go through a similar process.  I was Grimtotem-raised, but here I sit, in love with someone they'd kill on sight for being an invader.  I have friends among those who washed up on our shores and treat them with respect rather than leading them to death.  When I go to the Bluff, I don't sabotage their way of life.  I remember well that doubt when it first started nesting in me, and I can use that to support Seb through her journey.

It's amusing in a way.  She was the noble paladin, committed to her code of good and right, when we first grew close.  Now she's doubting all she was ever taught.  Pook was half of herself, her darker side, when we grew intimate, and she became redeemed after a time.  I seem to have that effect on people.

Gods, I hope I haven't guided them to it.

That reminds me: need to get a couple books out of storage.

I woke this morning with Sebrawyn in my arms, smelling freshly of the wood and deer blood.  Outside the tent, deer haunches were set neatly, waiting to be made into breakfast.  It filled me with pride knowing she's developed the skills and instincts to hunt her own food without trouble.  And then it opened a pit in my stomach.

What am I doing to the woman?

She's lived in cities all her considerably long life, surrounded by people and the convenience of civilization.  She came from a family of rangers and was unable to pick up the craft at all.  When her people founded a paladin order, she became part of it, and served in it faithfully for the right reasons.  And yet after Silvermoon becomes closed to her, she deigns to live as the tauren have -- dwelling in a tent, living off the land, barely seeing anyone else.  She's learning the ranger's trade now -- she's growing more confident in it each day.  When she off-handedly mentioned she hadn't used her sword in some time and I asked if that bothered her, her quick, casual (and thus true) answer was "Not really."

I have striven in my dealings with her to ensure I don't manipulate her.  I don't want to guide how she thinks.  However, with the evidence presented, I must be.  It's too drastic a change if it's genuine.  That led me to wonder and worry about whether or not she's doing all of this simply to make me happy... perhaps out of some extra guilt from the dreamwalk business.  That happened right before our trip to Nagrand.  I can't discount the possibility that this is one long, protracted period of trying to put me in a better state of mind.

So I asked her.  Not that specific topic, but rather whether or not she was settling for the life we were living because she thought it was what I wanted.  She replied that with Silvermoon no longer a possibility, she was trying to find happiness in a different direction, and reassured me that this was what she wanted, too.

I trust her word -- or at least that she believes that.  But with everything slowly gathering to become a good, happy situation, I can't help but be on the lookout for what will inevitably shatter it all to pieces.  I have to be careful, however -- otherwise it will be my questioning of the situation that plays that part.

That reminds me of another inevitable misstep: the proposal.  I've tried to think of elves I could ask about their rituals and come up dry.  Thierry went through a Sepanja.  Uloro's long gone and wouldn't give me a straight answer.  Arhena wasn't an elf forever and likely doesn't know.  Serenthiel is bitter and cracked.  I can't think of an elf that I can trust enough with this information who would actually give me a useful answer.  Going to research this on my own would only raise more questions.  And I'm certainly not about to ask Seb.

Damn it.  With her living so much like a tauren, the last thing I want to do is ask her in a way that seems like I don't care about her customs.

I'll come up with something.

Many things have happened since I wrote last, and I should commit them to paper so I remember.

Before we left Orgrimmar, I had the opportunity to meet Seb's sister Serenthiel.  From the second they laid eyes on each other, it was patently clear her sister wanted nothing more than to make Seb miserable.  She took stab after stab with insults, trying to find a weak spot in her armor so she could start twisting the knife.  Seb loves her sister in a way, despite all that's happened, but I don't have that problem.  It was painfully clear she was jealous of her sister -- jealous of her happiness and success -- so I dug into that, and when I immediately got a reaction, I dug deeper still.  When I mentioned the damnable cult she had once dedicated herself to, I thought she was about to work herself up into a frenzy.  Not wanting to cause a scene for Seb's sake, I let up, but if we ever encounter each other again I won't be as kind.  There are things about that cult she needs to hear, and she WILL hear them, even if I have to roar them in her face over her shrieks.  The cult saves no one, and it's past time she learned that.

We left the city after that, spending our time in the tent as we pondered where to go.  The list of safe, comfortable places to stay in Kalimdor is vanishingly small.  Most of the lands I roamed when I was young are now war-torn battlefields between the Horde and Alliance or underwater.  Southern Kalimdor is too hot.  Northern is far too cold or full of night elves.  I'd planned to stay in the eastern Barrens for a while, away from the conflict, but Seb's sighting of a Grimtotem party stopped that immediately.  Thank the gods they didn't see her.  A lone elf, with a number of them?  Even if some of them were children, it's likely they would have come to kill her.  At least now she knows better how to identify them, and hopefully she'll wake me next time.

Our travels have taken us through central Kalimdor and down into northern Feralas, where I haven't been in some time.  Gods, I'd occasionally visit the Colossi, but aside from that, the last time I was here I believe it was Sinae's funeral.  Still, it's time to look forward, not back.  Feralas is a beautiful place, if a bit humid for my liking.  The hunting here is good, too.  We rarely came here before the war -- just the southeastern fringes for hunting -- and there's a part of me that always considers this elf territory, but the forest is a big place.  We can find somewhere out of the way.

Seb's started to talk about wanting to settle down here.  She's not used to traveling with her home on her back, and I understand that.  It's refreshed me, the camping and wandering, after being cooped up in Dalaran for so long -- but she's lived in houses and apartments and the like all her life.  Sturdy walls that don't go anywhere.  Considering how long we've been living out of my tent, I think she's been very accommodating.  I could probably build a hut somewhere out here provided I could find the leather -- likely from Ghost Walker to the north.  I'm not sure taut hide walls will replace stone and brick, but maybe it will be enough.

I also know what talk like this means -- "building a life together" and such... but I'm not sure how to proceed.  Pook hadn't been exposed to any culture until shortly before we met.  I could have told her tauren take a trip to the moon and fast there for a year before becoming lifemates and she would have accepted it (eventually).  She had no preconceived notions about couples joining through ceremony -- only that people did it.  Sebrawyn, on the other hand, has been entrenched in elven culture longer than I've been alive.  I don't know what she expects from me.  Elven rituals are insanely complex and arcane.  She concedes a great deal for me already, and people put so much importance on that moment.  I don't know if taking her to a quiet place and asking her to be my lifemate will be fine or incredibly disappointing.

And that's not the only thing to ponder concerning that topic.

I have time enough to think about it.  For now, I'll scout out the forest and make certain the tribe has remained in the southeast.  I don't want surprises.

Haven't picked up this thing in a long while, but after watching Seb dig hers out from our supplies, I figured I should follow suit.

We've spent the last two months in Nagrand.  After spending the early winter lost in my own thoughts and worries, cooped up in a room, with nothing but the cold of Northrend waiting for me outside... I needed this badly.  I needed the sun on my face, the wind in my mane, and the grass under my hooves.  Looking back, I'd been jumping from one problem to another for ages.  There was no time to pause and take a breath.  In the end, I was unsure of my own mind.  It was long past time I found balance again.

And I did find it here on the plains.  It took time, but the irrational anger I felt bubbling up has long subsided.  No more strange absences or odd reactions.  I know the man I am.

What surprised me during this vacation of ours was how well Sebrawyn took to it.  She may have camped with me a bit as a novelty, but she's always seemed the type that finds comfort in sturdy walls and close proximity to what most consider civilization.  She didn't know much about living off the land when we came here but she was an eager pupil.  We hunted together.  I showed her how to distinguish tracks on certain terrain and what other signs to look for when following something.  There's a certain pride in being able to fend for yourself, the knowledge that you could survive even if you had nothing to start with.  She understands that now, I think.  I saw it in her face now and again when she caught the trail of our quarry or killed our supper.

I could stay out here with her forever, but she misses her civilization a bit and doesn't want to hide from her problems.  The latter I can definitely understand.  So soon we'll head to Orgrimmar, dwelling in the goblin stink until we find a place on Kalimdor suitable for us both.

I'll miss the simplicity.

Well, the deed is done.  I don't know what happened -- no one gave me specifics -- but when I awoke from the induced sleep, I no longer felt as if there was a part of me missing.  I seem to be whole again.

The constant, smoldering anger I feel towards Sebrawyn is a very good indicator.

I'm trying to make sense of it.  Normally I know exactly why I'm angry with someone, but this is sourceless.  It might be because of what caused all this in the first place -- and as I think more on it, that makes sense -- but it's oddly muddled.  I can't confront her on anything until I know why.  Until I know and can argue the point, I'm not going to say anything.

Gods, I want to punch something.

She's lying to me.

She came home with a bruising throat and a cut on her neck, and told me it was from a geist during her patrol.  But the cut was untreated, and I doubt she would have left the Crusaders without someone taking care of it.  I asked her about it in a roundabout way, giving her a chance to tell me the truth, but she kept with her story.

This isn't a little white lie that can be glossed over.  She's lying about something that threatened her life.  There's something important she's hiding from me, and I can't stop thinking about what it might be.

This is how it always starts.

She's working with a woman named Andralin (hate spelling elf names.  Andralyn?  Andrylyn?) to go into my head again, this time with professional guidance.  I know how dangerous and stupid this is, but I don't know what else I can do at this point.

In all my worrying, I wonder... if I do come out of it whole, how angry with her am I going to be?

Haven't picked this thing up in a few weeks.  Suppose I should write something.

( And on he writes... )

I haven't been able to bring myself to write these past few days.  Too lost in my own thoughts, I suppose, and unwilling to write down my suspicions of what's happened.  It makes it all too real.  But I've stalled long enough and I'll need some record of what happened just in case things get worse.

I was affected by Sebrawyn's jaunt into my head after all.  When I went to practice some days back, I could barely raise my sword.  Not because I was infirm physically, but the drive, the thrill of the fight I remember having was completely, utterly absent.  For the first time in an age I didn't want to challenge myself and test my skill in battle, and the void that left behind was so crippling I shrank from it.  I find myself questioning so much surrounding that emptiness -- I remember the feelings I'm supposed to have, vaguely, but they simply don't come.  Seb's convinced that it was something she did, and it's probable, but maybe what she killed was simply a guardian.  Perhaps this utter lack of drive stems from my acceptance of An'she.  Others use his power and fight, but it's possible that isn't the case for me.  That this is some act of reining me in and teaching me a lesson.

I can't even muster a scrap of anger about the situation, either.  I just feel cold and sick inside.  Scared.  How can I protect people if I can't fight off what threatens them?  What good am I, what use, if I cannot fend for myself?  People so crippled were useless in the tribe and rarely lived long.  I feel like a useless burden waiting to be culled.  I've tried thinking about other things, but even the thrill of the hunt is absent.  I can do nothing.  I am worthless at practically everything that matters.

I haven't vocalized much of the sick dread in my gut.  Seb's picked up on enough of it, and she feels bad enough without need for elaboration from me.  I am not about to make the situation worse by laying this burden on her, even if she is responsible for it.  She's the only thing that can drag me out of my brooding for a short while, and perhaps it's selfish to want to keep that, but I do.

The trip to Naxxramas only confirmed everything tenfold.  Despite the hordes of undead threatening a number of people I strive to protect, I couldn't raise my sword.  It was all I could do to keep my shield in their faces and press them back while others attacked.  And gods, how much I hated it.  My weakness, glaringly obvious, was on display for people who should never see it.  Ephe, Aquenda, Bloodaxe, the other elves... all of them saw what should be hidden from them.  And not even Aquenda's needling about it could stir up more than mild irritation. 

How can I show my face?  How can I go outside?  The people best poised to exploit my weaknesses now know the way to get me where they'd want me.  I can't offer protection from any of life's dangers.  I am completely, utterly useless and weak, and anything I try will only end in my death if not the deaths of others as well.

If this is the price for gaining An'she's power, I should not have paid it.

I'm awake, sane, and I believe I'm the same man I was.

But there's uncertainty enough to drive me mad anyway.

During the entire dreamwalk affair, all I had were vague feelings that went along with the constant undercurrent of panic that something foreign was running around in my head.  Smug satisfaction.  Blinding rage that cut off abruptly.  A mounting frustration and greater panic; the panic resolved itself, but the frustration never did.  And, perhaps most importantly, the removal of the paralyzing terror of thinking about An'she's light.  I certainly don't fear it anymore.

When we came to, Seb got away from me as fast as she could, asked for confirmation of my sanity, then fled to the bedroom crying.  I spent the night twisted in knots, not knowing what she'd experienced to cause her to react so strongly.

Today, after she avoided me for a good half of the day, she explained her experiences to me.  I still don't know how to process it.  They're the constructs of my mind as perceived and retold by her, and there's a filter there I don't know how to take.  I'm certainly not going to write it down here in its entirety, and I nearly asked for her not to tell me, as it seems like the sort of thing I honestly shouldn't know -- but she seemed like she needed to relieve herself of the burden, so I listened.  She met a puppet master of sorts that angered her greatly, which was no doubt my skill at manipulation... and I assume the one who tried to stop her was my control?  It's difficult to manage.  It doesn't sound as if all aspects of who I am were in play, either -- which likely led to more confusion.

The most concerning bit of her story, however, was the mention of killing something that had been attacking her.  Now, I've killed things in people's minds before, but each time they seemed to be devised guardians specifically conjured to keep me out.  It's possible it was one of those things.  Still, it's also possible that it was a part of me, and my stomach is an empty pit just thinking about it.  How can I tell if I've changed?  I feel the same.  There's no way to take stock, no list I can check, and Seb likely won't know either.  I may be a different man and not know it.  The damage may never be healed.  The possibility is driving me insane.

I should have listened to my gut and told her no.  Aye, she wouldn't feel as if she were trusted, but maybe I could have articulated my fears enough that she would have understood.  I could have found another way to soldier on, even without An'she, and we would both be happier for it.  Instead she's hesitant about my presence, let alone my touch, and I can't be certain of who I am.

I doubt I'll sleep much tonight... this is going to have me awake.  I'm already going through everything I can think of trying to see if I remember, if it's still there.  I have no idea if that method will even work.  I almost feel lost inside my own mind.

And I have no way to solve it.

Gods, I'm tired.

The constant, unceasing worry about what looms on the horizon was only broken up for a short period of time due to the talk of children. Tizze, it seems, has gotten her partner to agree to allowing her to have a child by some other man so they can raise a child together. I offered what little help I can give, but it got me dwelling on a number of other things, not least being my own children.

If I started writing down all the things I miss about them, I would never stop -- and I have more imperative things to write about. But I miss them terribly.

It also got me thinking, briefly, about the possibility of the same thing happening with Seb and I once things were more secure -- our relationship is still young, after all. But I dismissed it quickly after. I'm not sure of her feelings on things, but I know I would be under constant worry that the donor would seek to be a part of the child's life, and the chance of me being comfortable with that is close to nil. Tybilt was supposedly dead when I raised Daltrien as my son. There would be too many unknowns if it happened again, and I would never cease worrying.  It's not something I would even begin to bring up in the first place in any case.

First and foremost on my mind is the dreamwalk, however, and I am dreading this day like none other. She is not going into my head to excise some foreign intruder. She is going in there to ultimately try and change me. Whatever she does, all parts of me come together to form the whole. I do not know who I will be when I reawaken, and that is utterly terrifying.

To that end, one final attempt at keeping my sanity before I go on a walk to prepare myself for this madness.


(On the next page in large, clear tauren glyphs:)