A very dreary, very wet day's journey is finally done. Strider managed to find a campsite under a small cluster of trees that was only slightly damp. All the firewood we could find was very wet, so the fire is more smoke than flame. The birds and other animals in this land must be trying to stay dry, because we saw no other living thing all day. Nothing broke the silence except the rumble of thunder, the patter of rain, and the slosh and squish of our feet in the puddles and the mud.
--------------------
- All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.