The storm is here. Through the windows I watch the trees bend in the wind, the water fall upon the roads. All is washed by the downpour. The dark clouds threatened rain for hours before the first drops fell from heaven, leaving us in a strange state of anticipation and dread. Though we were resigned to face the inevitable, we knew not what lay ahead. Such has been our lot for many months.
More have requested my attendance at the ceremonies for the fallen. I know I must go; I dare not forsake those who have fought alongside me. But to go is to risk, and I have watched far more than I once thought possible follow similar roads to far different ends than I intend to pursue.
I once thought, perhaps naively, that such days were drawing to a close. My closest comrades had fallen in quick succession, and I believed the ordeal to be finished with the close of the twelfth month. I looked forward to a time of respite. I could not have been more mistaken in my assumptions.
Somehow, more are continuing to fall. There remain a precious few still with me; many, however, are all but gone. Things appear stable for the moment, but I do not know what the coming days may bring. The future is dark with uncertainty of who might be taken next. I fear for my brothers. I fear for myself. The Others are strong.
Lord, watch over us and guide us in the paths of light. May we be wise in the face of such change. May we be strong in the day of adversity. Keep us steadfast. Keep us safe. Keep us true.
Day 121 of the second year of weddings