Well, they warned me about the
dangers of traveling.
Yesterday I woke up with elf-locks
in my hair. Some mischievous sprite had wandered too far north with too much time on his hands. I still haven't gotten them all out. So much for the elvish blood in
my veins. How do they make tangles so well, the destructive little snippets?
Last night I lodged with another
faun. This one lived alone with his wife and little girl. I felt an air of
distrust around this house, unlike the first with the lovely faun family. A
soft noise woke me in the middle of the night, and I saw the mistress faun with
a candle, kneeling beside my bed and digging through my bag. Her husband was in
the doorway, holding most of my silver.
"Oy!" I cried, and
whacked the fauness with my staff. She yelped in pain, and her husband scurried
away down the hall. Grabbing my haversack away from her, I charged after him.
His plan - which was mainly run for your life and hide in a room somewhere -
didn't make much sense. He slammed a door behind him and held it shut, and I
tried to break it down. This failing, I threatened to burn the house down if he
didn't come out. It worked.
I'm sick of staying with fauns.
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