You didn't tell mom about anything, right? If you won't keep a secret, please don't read this letter.
I know you don't want to hear a word about Factions-this or Powers-that, and I'm sorry.
Two days ago, we came across some priests and soldiers of the Power Grozomantius At first, I thought they were actually Athar. They seemed so silly, carrying around some golden box which could cast illusions. I couldn't fathom that they honestly believed what they said. My friends and I took their magic box, and they didn't like it.
Dad, we got in a fight.
I killed one of them.
The strong live, the weak die. More of the priests would have died if I didn't stand between the priests and my own party members. Mom taught me this; but is being weak so wrong? The members of our expedition are crazed and bloodthirsty. I killed, but I didn't really want to kill him. Why did I pick that fight? Dad, I didn't try to kill him. You know how clumsy I can be.
It wasn't until the next day that I could really reflect on what happened. It was raining hard on us while we traveled and I kept to myself. When anyone looked at me or shared a word with me, I made sure to nod and smile. In the rain, nobody knew the difference. I smiled, and nobody knew the difference.
Buddyo
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