It's been several weeks since I killed innocents.
The only thing keeping me from the edge is the knowledge that that elf is out there, and so is Lovesta, and that I cannot leave this world until I know they are in safe places in life. They're my responsibility, after all.
I have not redone my holy tattoo, or worn my holy talisman, and the talisman burns me whenever I deign to touch it. It is a just punishment, for allowing myself to be vulnerable enough to get myself into such a position. I haven't gone into any cities or towns. I haven't left the mountains at all, but I am thinking of moving to the desert, or perhaps to the jungle, to find a more isolate spot. Adventurers and the like are starting to come into the mountains now that spring is coming. Moon has not left me, nor has Little Hunter, so at least I still have them. I have become to flagellate myself for my transgressions against Armatra six times a day. The pain reminds me of the debt I owe the world now. But I can't help but wonder even now... A part of me selfishly wishes for her forgiveness, to earn the right to my previous path again, to earn glory again in her name. And I can't help but think of the suspicious circumstances I found myself in when I woke... Just who freed me that night, and why...?
The journal is old and travel-worn. Antonia sighs, unsure why a beast like her continues to indulge in such human, civilized habits. She picks up the whip she'd made herself, tipped with a wolf's claws, and starts again. She winces with each strike, knowing each is deserved.