The air is freezing. It hasn’t snowed since the day we left Varnhold, but the ground is still coated with ice. My sickness has not passed and I feel I am getting worse each day. Perhaps if I was able to rest for a full night in a comfortable, warm bed, things would be different.
As we pass by the foot of the Tors of Levenies, the spriggans inform us that this is as far as they will take us. We are halfway to the Nomen campground and the spriggan’s home is just in the mountains. They ask for their weapons and armor back, but we refuse them. They grumble as they leave and Pete makes to paint the snow with their blood, but I stop him. I may despise these creatures but we had a deal to let them leave us safely if they led us this far.
We continued east from there and found ourselves in a place with long, deep scars in the land. Sinkholes and mounds of dirt cluttered the horizon. Karigan recognized these marks as being left behind by a bullette, a horribly quick and vicious creature that burrows through the ground like swimming through water. Pete makes the joke that the creature sounds like a land shark, but the idea is quite terrifying to me. We decided to quickly leave that place and head south.