وداع 2

Cal

Julian says I don’t have to start this with “dear diary” or anything official. Still, this feels stupid. And a waste of time. My days aren’t exactly empty.

Not to mention this whole thing is a security risk.

But Julian certainly knows how to nag.

He knows I’m not talking enough about, well, anything. Not with him, not with Mare. She isn’t exactly forthcoming either, but at least she has her sister, her family, Farley, Kilorn, and whoever else she needs when she does decide to say something. I’m nowhere near as lucky. All I have is her and Julian, and I guess Nanabel. Not that I really want to talk to my grandmother about my mental state, or my girlfriend, or the trauma of the past year.

My mother had a diary too. It didn’t stop Elara from doing . . . what she did. But it seemed to ground her, in the beginning. Maybe it will help me too.

I’m not exactly good at writing. I certainly read a lot, but it hasn’t rubbed off. And I really don’t want another liability for the Nortan States. Things are precarious enough.

Or am I just being vain, thinking that anything I scribble down could somehow threaten the reconstruction? Probably.

How does anyone do this? Journals are impossible. I feel idiotic.

Mare wasn’t kidding about the Paradise Valley. It’s gorgeous and dangerous. We had to wait for a storm to clear out before we could get up here. Had to burn a hole in a snowdrift just to get to the cabin door. And we heard wolves all night long. I wonder if I can lure any to the cabin with dinner scraps?

Do not lure wolves with dinner scraps.

The States and the Scarlet Guard are cooperating well even without me running between them. I was expecting Nanabel to drag me out of the cabin after twenty-four hours, but it looks like we’ll get the full time away. And we got to celebrate my birthday properly, despite the bison interruption. They are very noisy.

Third day cooped up inside the cabin. Normally wouldn’t mind, but Mare insists on doing puzzles, and I think they’re all missing pieces. Seems rudely symbolic.

Fell in a geyser. Very happy to be heatproof. My clothes, not so much. Gave a bison a real show on the jog back to the cabin.

Another snowstorm last night. Mare couldn’t help but get involved. Thunder snow is incredible. And she’s a show-off.

Convinced the supply-drop pilots to take us on a quick tour around the valley. The whole of Paradise is on top of a caldera and a dormant volcano. Bit unsettling. Even for me.

No bad dreams for the last two weeks. Usually I’d blame exhaustion, but we’re not doing much more than lying around and hiking nearby. I think something about the wilderness is settling me. The question is, am I healing—or is this just stasis? Will the nightmares come back when we leave? Will they be worse?

Worse.

And always the same thing.

Maven, alone on that island, standing just out of reach no matter how hard I try to move.

She doesn’t want to come with me. And I’d rather she didn’t.

I need to do this alone.