Day Four-Eighty-Four: Why do you not understand 'No Admittance'

Aaaaand the direct approach didn't work. I'm out of ideas.

Ever since I got here I've been trying to figure out a way to get past Antonia and up to June's cave. The witch doesn't want a visitor, obviously, and I'll be damned if I won't forcefully change her mind on the subject. My all-consuming purpose has been to dream up a hare-brained scheme for bypassing the fucking werewolf.

After so many failed attempts, and after my brain became addled by an excess of heat, I decided I had little choice. I would have to blast my way past June's defences.

I've been trying to figure out a way past Antonia, yes, and a big part of that consists of studying the werewolf. At first I thought that she simply sat in place and waited for me to make a move, day and night. I figured that June's energies somehow sustained her.

Not so, apparently. Antonia's still a living creature. She has needs. She just doesn't express them when she thinks I'm looking.

I went to bed early last night. My sunburn was hurting my brain, and I was cranky. I couldn't sleep well, though, and the sunburn forced me to remain in one comfortable position, wedged into the wagon. I wasn't asleep… but I must have looked like I was asleep.

I turned over after almost an hour of fitful still, wincing against the pain in my neck. And when I turned over, pointing my head towards Antonia's resting place… she wasn't there.

Cautious, now fully awake, I looked around, peeking my head out of the wagon. Antonia wasn't around. A check of the other side revealed she wasn't there, either. My horses looked notably less spooked (they've been on edge constantly with Antonia around - it's a credit to Morris' training that they haven't bolted), so I concluded that she'd gone somewhere else.

Because I was asleep. Because I wouldn't break through June's little checkpoint while I was asleep. Because sleeping people are harmless. Or are they?

I could have bolted then and there, but I decided that was a poor idea. I had no idea where Antonia was. Instead, I settled down and waited for her to return… and she did, eventually, return. Her muzzle was bloody. I have no idea what she ate while she was away.

Making a show of rising, I fed the horses, adjusted the wagon a little, made a few half-hearted attempts to get by Antonia, and got back in the wagon. I pretended to sleep, hoping it was obvious enough that I was suffering from sunstroke. (Which is, I gotta admit, quite true. I'm still pretty frazzled.)

By noon, Antonia left again. Peeking out from under my sheet, noting the air of calm that came over the horses, I watched the werewolf slink away to the east. I waited until she was a speck, and then nothing, before I made my move.

I don't know if June is omnipresent or not. I'm guessing she can only see insofar as her slaves can see. Nevertheless, I knew that it was then or never, and with Antonia gone I'd not have a better chance. Bolting into the wagon's seat, I whipped the surprised horses into action and spurred them towards the mountain at breakneck speed. I didn't care about their safety, or mine, or the wagon's, or that of the people who were soon in pursuit, either on foot or on the backs of pack animals.

Libby. Libby. Libby.

I am sad to say that the chase did not last long. Had I been thinking more rationally, I might have realized that the side of a mountain, even if it is fairly gradual, is not a good place for a wagon. I couldn't have gotten more than halfway to June's cave before the whole damned thing tipped, upending the horses, spilling my possessions all over the mountainside, and essentially destroying the wagon.

Antonia and June's possessed workers fell on me in short order. The workers ripped what remained of the wagon apart while Antonia killed the horses. (She's not much for punching anymore, I guess.) Once that was done and I'd been dragged to my feet, they forcefully escorted me away from the mountain. The only thing I was allowed to bring was, well, y'know. How else could I be writing?

I'm stuffed under an outcropping of rocks, writing as the sun sets. I haven't moved much all day. One of June's slaves, a portly fellow who has apparently lost a lot of weight doing work for her, quietly brought me a meal of corn and water and left again. June doesn't want to see me, but she also doesn't want me dead. I wonder how long it will take before somebody tries to carry me back to Pubton.

This isn't working.

Fuck. FUCK. FUCK.