It has been weeks since I have last written. I apologize. It is easy to forget the passage of time. Without you, it feels as though no day or night matters, as if each minute is just delaying the day in which you're by my side once again. Do you, in your continuous dreams, remember those days? The stars and moon shining brightly every night, the wet grass in morning after. I have yet to match your skills of finding shelter and making fire with leaves and sticks. We gave each other names, separate from the ones our father called us. Aspen, was it? Yes, my name was Aspen. Yours was Hazel, because you loved the hazelnuts that grew every . You gave brother a name as well, Ewan. Do you dream of him too?
I have crafted a mask for myself: a beautiful winged mask of amber which I designed to disguise my impurities. With this, I've been able to commune with the villagers, and I have come to the conclusion that they are not worth the trek to reach them. Like sheep without a shepherd, they have nothing to guide them. They are lost. They look to the sun with a sense of longing, and to the moon with a sense of wonder. I find myself looking to the moon often as well. Perhaps they will find what they are looking for in it.