Corresponding Chapter: 34

I met my father recently.

His name is Rolim Fellmirr.

It was quite…unnerving. I wasn't sure what to do or feel.

So, being me, I ran into the forest.

What a bloody fool.

I can't say that I hate the man; he loved mother and me, and his reasons for leaving are his own.

But I wish that he would've contacted me somehow.

And maybe that he was human.

Life would have been so much easier.

There would be no secrets or hiding. I would be normal. I might even be a full fledged Master Scholar by now. I could be happily living with Marge and Dustin and maybe even love mother. Yes, love mother.

But I guess Marge and Dustin wouldn't be there if mother had married Rolim. At least something good came out of mother's second marriage.

Or was it her first? Did she ever marry Rolim? Are there any other siblings I don't know about?

Rolim doesn't seem to be married, not that I could tell at least.

Although he did wear a ring.

I'm not quite sure.

It's strange to think that Rolim is my father.

After all these years of thinking and dreaming, I had created my version of this man without giving him any opportunity to show himself. I had judged him before I even saw him, and when I did meet him, I fled.

And yet he saved me from death.

Ran through a forest to find me bleeding out on the ground. He carried me back through a nasty storm that fell upon the forest, and I was told that he stayed with me for a whole day until Lanaya told him to leave.

I think he truly does love me.

It took me a while to accept this man. I believe that he is good; everyone has their faults.

I wish I would've questioned him, but I thought it would be too intrusive. I can wait until another time, though. It will allow me to reflect on what I've learned.

Oh and when I ran into the forest, I ran straight into a bear.

How wonderful.

I now have a scar on my right arm as a permanent memento of my skirmish with the creature and as of now, my arm still hurts.

And yet I'm writing.

I also watched a halla calf die that day.

I don't know why that image haunts me so much.

Did I not see the dead bodies of servants strewn on the ground during the siege of the Cousland Castle? Did I not smell the blood of the innocent? Surely the pale faces of death would haunt my dreams?

But no.

The small halla does.

Maybe it's because the halla was so innocent. Maybe it was because it's frantic bleating suddenly twisted into the blood-curdling scream of the dying.

Whatever the reason, that image stays with me.

I am convinced it has chased away all childish thoughts in me.

But I am still ignorant Bell to the rest of the group. They know not of my brush with death.

It's strange isn't it?

Although Death takes life away, it has the uncanny ability to show you how much life is worth.

I must take my leave now.

I have been plagued with headaches all day.