Day Fifty-Eight: Old women make great spies

June? What the hell kind of a name is June for a witch?

I should question who wrote in my diary, but what's the point? They'll probably keep doing it, and I'll never find out the truth anyway. So meh. I don't care anymore. If I ever get back home, I'll just leave this stupid diary out where EVERYBODY can read it. And they can contribute, for all I care. Nothing is sacred!

Sorry, diary. You're not stupid. You smell like my socks, but you're not stupid.

Anyway. That information proved good, 'cause I finally decided to enter the city today and ask. The tool shed had an especially long tarp that I could use for a cloak, so I hung it over my old one and trudged into town. I walked on my knees the whole time to give myself the appearance of an especially tall goblin. No one seemed to notice, but the slow trudging hurt my knees after a while. I'll have to make something to protect 'em.

But yeah. It was good info. I didn't wanna ask anybody on the streets, 'cause that would be kinda weird, so I found a tavern - thought it was a tavern, anyway, though I found out later that it was a tea shop… whaddya expect, I can't read goblin - and asked around.

Or, okay, I asked one person. The bartender. (Teatender. Whatever.) He knew who I meant right away.

"June? Aye, 'course I know her. The healer witch. Need her for those ungainly stumps o' yours, old woman?"

I distinctly remember twitching. I sound like an old goblin woman? "Erm, yes. Yes I do. Terrible pain in this rain, you know?"

"Might wanna live somewhere else, then, if rain's a problem," the teatender snorted. "Lives on the outskirts, she does. North side o' town. Go 'round the castle 'n you'll find her shack in the swamp. Gonna order somethin', or you happy to just mess up m'floors all day?"

I really, really wanted to order something, because I've been surviving off… rain water and mud. But I didn't have any money. So I left. Sigh.

(Lucky me that the bartender didn't think to question my use of English. I only just caught that now. Eep, I nearly fucked myself over.)

I'm damn tired from the short walk down the street, so now I'm back in the shed, recovering. My body can't take much more of this, diary. I really need something to eat. I'd pretend to be a beggar, but I think all the rain would drown me. Drowning ain't much good to my predicament.

Though it would get me out of this mess...

But then everybody in the castle would die...

Including Libby...

And then she'd haunt me in hell.

Man.

My stomach sounds like a t-rex,

Dragomir the Adventurer