[Nehetsrev]

*in a shaky hand*

Jenra 27, 1434

I almost lost Danael a few days ago. Thank the Gold that his last strand didn't snap when he fell in that blasted cave! It is only now I've the strength to even write about it. Thankfully his soul remains bound to his body still, and I found him sleeping when I arrived home. We're only just married still, and we've so much more living to do together. As I crawled into bed to hold him close to myself I couldn't help but think for a moment of giving up this hazardous life we lead. Adventuring is so much a part of each of us though, that like Addison, I know we can't truly be alive without it. At least, I don't feel that I can. Maybe Danael could.

The troop we were with was simply too large and disorganized. Some say there's safety in such numbers, but as Danael often says, "Every army has it's casualties." In all my life I've noticed it to be true that the more there are involved, the more often at least one of them ends up dying. On the other hand, we can't do much of anything worth doing on our own either. I think for us it will be important to travel with a group, but one no larger than eight members, including ourselves. Between six and eight seems to be the magic number of folks needed to get most things done, especially if we each contribute skills that are largely unique and supportive of eachother.

For Danael and I both, the reality that our next deaths could be our very last is something we cannot afford to take lightly. I don't think either of us could bear to lose the other, not yet.

There's more I have thought of writing about, but I'm not sure I should yet. I haven't told Danael because I don't want to get his hopes up if it's not what it may be. Flows are ... running late. It could just be stress, or perhaps I've finally reached that time of life where the river dries up... I just don't know. Perhaps I'll seek out a priestess soon for some sort of confirmation.