I found some scraps near an old outpost. The handwriting is clean, drawn in fine ink with a steady hand. I will present them below for reference in regards to the official report, that I will finish after completing my survey of this hellhole.
“I live by a creek.
I have always lived by the creek.
As have those around me.
The water is thick.
I like the feeling of the mud swallowing me.
The thrill of being the prey of Gaia.
My cut burns.
I see the remains of the creek, it almost seems to bubble near the last pitiful pools at its bottom. It smells like death and methane. The permafrost is almost gone and the earth is warped without its frigid structure. The shack seemed to have been built using industrial materials at its foundation but the inner works seem hand crafted and maintained.
” I feel fire spread throughout my veins.
The depth of the cut is gone.
My body makes fat and glue to put the flesh together.
Like the Elk. I am like the Elk.
I am growing steadier with the knife as I am with the pen said father.
I carved a beast with a wound. ”
I see some deep gouge marks near a few rough carved board insulated with hay.
I’ve pry away the boards, there I found a beautifully carved rifle case. The latch is the only thing to show any age, with its flecks of rust. I felt over the old runes engraved onto the box, my mind flickered with translation.
” To son, Valentin, the next heart of this home”
Inside there was a lining of dried velvet, skinned from the horns of elk most likely, which a long rifle with a dusty scope rested upon. I carefully removed it and found a long ebony blade, it had a thin crust of ancient crimson on its sheathe but the blade itself was immaculate. There was a scrap.
I thought my hand was steady.
It was steady but I felt a tug.
I saw the fire from my blood into my eyes.
I pushed it into father’s neck.
The blade Momma the blade it tugged.
It was like slicing meat once the blood spurted to a stop.
Like you taught me.
I hear cries of beasts.
I hear them Momma.
I will put back Father’s present.
I just wanted to see it before it arrived.
The writing was thinner than the other scraps, the letters almost scraped into the paper then lined with ink by the thinnest of hairs. I look back onto the deep gouged marks into the board. I smell pain, sweat, blood, and fear all for a moment. I breathe in and the split-second flood of the past is gone from my nostrils. I throw the payload into the dark mudwater of the creek and watch it sink as it flashes. I make a mould of the claw mark with my tek and head towards the main village. The air gets thicker.