From the Wheat Field

Dear Diary,

I have found a lovely little wheat field where I can sit and write. I am nestled in a corner of a fence, hidden by the tall waves of wheat. The weather is beautiful and the ground dry. The more I explore this place, the more I adore it.

Since last I wrote, I have made much progress. I bought myself some clothes from the local tailor by trading the pins in my hair. The shopkeeper was simply fascinated with them. The clothes are plain, just different shades of brown, but it feels nice to be less conspicuous. 

I had the pleasure of meeting Fallen shortly after. Fallen, of course, is the man I met yesterday at the inn. It is a strange name, I know, but he didn't seem to think so. He found Asphodel to be a much more interesting name.

He offered to show me around the town and I politely obliged. We walked through a path in a small forest. It was actually more of a patch of trees than anything else. The sunlight sifted through the leaves and the ground sparkled beautifully. I laughed and smiled a lot, partly because I was happy but mostly because I was nervous. We were discussing the local politics when I caught a glimpse of that strange man again. I asked Fallen if he had seen the dark figure, but he had not. I then proceeded to tell him a little about the man, or as much as I could without giving away too much information. He did not seem happy that this man was a regular occurrence in my life. In this world, such things are not frequent and are usually seen as some sort of omen. I know the man means no harm, though, so I am not too worried.

It is a tiring game to pretend to understand this world. I might confide the truth in Fallen one day, for he seems the trustworthy sort. Would that be foolish? I do not think I can traverse this world when I cannot yet name a single city. Perhaps the answer will come to me in time.

Until the near future, my friend,


The End

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