I have been walking around this stinking pile of Netch droppings for hours. I have yet to come across any sign of my Daelekil or of Speaks-Too-Soon. I feel foolish. No doubt they left together from town, or at least Qau-dar has left.
I shall try just one more time. Then I shall head back out.
Ma! Why must hope spring forth every time I make another round of the town center or I see a glimpse of brown fur around a corner?
Hanging around town is dangerous. I should go.
Why must a simple gold band weight so much upon my finger?
These better not be my emotions. They have no place in my life anymore, the fetchers.