Day Sixty-Two: Things get weirder

Today I have begun my search for the witch. I can feel her presence, faintly, on the edges of my brain, though she is still quite elusive. If only there were others to help me focus my thoughts…

No matter. You and I are of one flesh, diary - he calls you that, so I might as well - so I commanded you to grow legs. You have been running alongside me throughout the streets of this wet burg, albeit at a somewhat reduced pace. I wish I could leave you behind, but I fear that Dragomir would be distraught if I did. I like the man, so I will do no such thing.

You and I managed to pick our way through the market district, hiding beneath battered tables to avoid detection. Subterfuge amongst these creatures is infuriatingly difficult, as they notice much that humans ignore. Goblins value the darkness, however, and so I think any who spotted you, a book with stubby legs, took you as a trick of the poor light. I certainly hope so, anyway.

We're not far from the northern edge of town now, and we've bedded down in a heap of hay for the night. It's fortunate that goblins use ponies for transportation, and that they garrison their war ponies throughout the town. We might not have found a dry place to hide and sleep otherwise.

Where are others of my kind? I can detect none in this city. I find that very odd indeed.

Sincerely,

The Rat