Dear Diary,
I'm writing to you from the "fields of development", our caravan has slowly but surely made it to the mountain range. Not that it's comfortable here, but we're glad we made it alive.
Halfway through the journey and looking back, I realise how much work has been done. And I'm happy. But then I look ahead and have a hunch that the rest of the journey will be much harder than the one we've travelled, and worst of all, our supplies are running out.
I have mixed feelings about having to eat mountain troll meat because I see no other way to survive. Unless it's arena fighting, but...I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that. We'll see.
But no matter what lies ahead and no matter how our journey ends, I believe that at the end of the it we will have a home and a warm bed waiting for us, and someone's kind hands will cover and whisper carefully: «Today your journey is over, just rest. Because tomorrow there will be a new one...".
Dart the Developian