Day Six-Ninety-One: Happy Days

So.

Uh.

We're...

We're on the road again.

Hi. Logan here. Grylock... Grylock got so tired of writing that he ripped his pages out of the diary last week. They've been burned, and the ashes scattered to the spring winds. Don't ask me why he's so temperamental about it - not much happened last week. Maybe he's a shitty writer, and doesn't want Dragomir to see his scribblings when our fearless leader wakes up...?

Who knows.

Last week was a crapshoot that didn't turn in our favour. We stopped the Dauphine in a little walled town called Fareach. Dragomir's still out cold after Traveller's punch, and we tried to get him some qualified medical help for the severe bump on his head. The, uh, end result of that was a crumbled clinic and a healer fled. We were forced to move on without getting care for Dragomir. 

You can imagine how happy Libby was to hear that. She damn near strangled Grylock to death. Then she went after Traveller for causing this mess in the first place. Sigh.

As we move away from the fertile lands of Rodentia and further west, the land is... thinning. I can't think of a better word for it. There are fewer hills, greenery is sparse,  and rocks are more prominent. We ran into a stampede of tumbleweeds the other day; I'm sure you can imagine the panic that stirred up.

... yeah, no panic at all. They're tumbleweeds. Who cares about tumbleweeds?

Morale is low. Everyone's depressed about Dragomir's condition. The departure of the gypsies didn't help that much, either - their caravan took off early this morning. Their leader, Lisanna (nice lady), finally gave up on trying to coax Traveller back 'mongst the gypsies. He refuses to leave the Dauphine, and his mama is nervous following us around. Apparently we get in too much trouble, more than even gypsies are willing to weather. Yikes. 

Antonio stayed with us, at least, so we have someone to watch over Traveller. Bless the lords for small favours. And he continues to teach my dad how to box, so I guess this is a semi-blessing...? Traveller won't strap on gloves again, so dad's probably safe.

Traveller. Yeesh. The man's a mope. When I first met him Traveller would never shut up. Always talking about freaking boots. Now, though? He barely says a word. Looks so contrite that even Libby isn't really mad at him anymore. Probably helps that he delivers food, medicine, and the like to Dragomir's cabin on a regular basis. I doubt Dragomir would be happy to know that Traveller's hovering by his bedside all day, but... well, Dragomir's in a coma. He doesn't get a say.

I'm writing this entry up on the observation deck. Plato's at my side, and I'm pretty sure he's staring directly into the sun. I keep telling him to look away, but he barely moves his head. If he were a few feet taller I get the feeling he would climb up on the railing and pitch himself over the side of the Dauphine. I... I, uh, guess he's just depressed about Dragomir, but... extreme.

Yikes. Sad crew is sad. Where'd all the lulz go?

I miss the open road. I haven't lmao'ed in far too long.

Continuing west,

Logan the Thief