The house of Aundier on the hill warns no one enter, and all look away.
A red moon crowns it the night that we must venture there.
Animal tracks cross the path, but do not leave, beating the ground muddy towards the house, as we do.
On and while we were yet close to it, at a turn in the road I perceive wind as the heavy sound of breathing.
A crossroad approaches us, whose other destinations I dare not know.
To cross the threshold is to pass between two dark maws set into the forest on either side, and break the breath between them.
The brave that dare to forge ahead scream at the wind that tears them, and seem lesser men for having reached the other side.
I was one of the brave, and feel I must take rest here at the doorstep of the house of Aundiere.
Here I write this as my party has fallen deeply into slumbering, knowing full well their fates as I do.
Not caring but that others do not do the same.
Little is there to do for this now but add my message to those hundreds scratched into the wood of this place.