Reign of Winter
Diaries of Morgan Dal - The Last
And they leave.
I stand here for an hour, rooted to the spot, watching that tree slowly crumble over.
Immediately around me the ground is rich and vibrant. But if I look behind me, the trail we left is already rotting away. Everywhere else in this land is rank and rotting.
I don’t think I can survive here.
I am sorry Greta, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.
Perhaps it is better this way.