Letters to Meeka - 2 - Blight

It is difficult to write this by campfire light, as I am trying to not smudge these pages with ash or have them burn, but for you I shall do my very best.
It was a somber morning after the events of last night. Many have left the inns and when visiting the vendors many have closed shop or moved altogether. Could not blame them, for the fear the mists brought is a lingering thing not likely to go away, with little answers.
 
The men I'd noted for you earlier, Cole and Jeremiah seem to have left. Cole we know for a fact has left. The barkeep asked after him since he'd left last night without a word, and I noticed that his horse had also been missing. From that I'd assume he's just fine and has moved on his way like the several others who'd been attending the Fête. Jeremiah has left no trace of himself in either of the Twin Inns, so currently I believe he must have gone with Cole. The two, as I must have mentioned in my last letter were fast friends and no doubt decided to skip town together after last nights events. I don't know them, but I will admit I was somewhat disappointed, as they seemed rather interesting. To unravel the layers of meaning the cards predicted, naming them Heirophant and Judgement... It felt a shame. Imagine the entertainment of such creatures!
 
The Five of Pentacles and Three of Swords will have to suffice. The Swords... Sessile. She remains quiet, but her mind appears sharp. She remains of interest.
Cyra however... I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to teach her, tease her, give her a friend... But the other part of me finds her dangerous. Too loose with that tongue, whipping out like an angry dog. All gnashing teeth and spit. She continues to threaten and insult everyone, even when it gets the opposite of what she wants.
I did buy her a bottle of poison. I can just see your expression, and I know! I probably shouldn't have given the inexperienced, rabid dog of a woman an entire new bottle of Stillroot Tears. But she asked it of me, I couldn't help myself. Nobody just outright asks such things, and I'll admit that I do miss the days of such foreplay and deciphering what someone is in need of, that great tangled puzzle. But it made the vendor quite friendly and Cyra seemed, for the first time, not angry.
 
I have also bought some herbs to refill my stocks. It isn't much either, but I'll admit, much of my money has been pissed away on travel. I have been trying. Trying to be a better person as you no doubt hoped for me, and I should have made the attempt sooner... but... I am so incredibly bored with it all! I cannot be a medicine woman like you. I did not inherit your grace or innate love for people. I miss the fun, the danger, the wondering if I will live or die! That great, intoxicating rush!
 
And so... Once again I've strayed. We wandered into the forest, the three of us, at the behest of some old man from the North. And there we found the land blighted by residual magic from the Mist, so told by the Spirit Guardian. There was a Druid that had been turned into a tree the Guardian called the Warden. Watering it induced visions for the two, but my spirit was pulled beneath the roots where he was and spoke to me of the Mists. We later found him in a cave as well where he echoed the same sentiments and answered the others questions. I admit, I do not know what to make of this... I still wonder at the spirits intentions. He truly seems to care for the forest, which I feel lucky to have cleared some blight in a spring and patch of land, but I still wonder why he takes the offerings. Perhaps I am looking far too close at something that doesn't need such attentions... But ever since Cole mentioned it I have wondered... What would motivate a spirit? Not being a spirit myself it is hard to think on.
 
But its getting late and as you can see I've been unable to keep the ash from dirtying the page.
I hope you are well.
 
M