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Scrolls of the wanderer ancient text of the travels of Lord Jaden Farseer


the Snow Prince
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DAY NINE
I have come to call the small sand tiger cub, Mirra, a fitting name I hope, for in an ancient tounge, it means nobel. If one knew not her heritage, one would think she was a variety of common cat, she plays with my belongings like a kitten with a ball of yarn. She makes me laughe, makes me smile, something that is needed in this forsaken land. WE have made little ground here, moveing at night is our only option, for I can not bare the full sun without water. Soon, she may well have to survive on her own yet again, perhaps useing my corpse as substanince to sustain her till she can find bettter hunting grounds.




 
 
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