Today we fought a beast that was as wonderful as it was terrifying. I think the only way I find to describe it is as the dead that walks. Not something so fanciful as a zombie, but still terrible. A beast whose hide was toughened and hardened that even the magic in my blood empowered claws did nothing. A beast who, even beyond death, their body resisted and repelled my magic as if it were naught more than mere parlor tricks. The condition of two of my compatriots was put into grave peril as we fought, with mister Taiyo left at death’s door.
Though I’ve recieved much training at the Society on the medical realms, I found, in my haste, that I had let my knowledge fall to the wayside, and healed mister Taiyo impulsively, allowing his wounds to close on foreign matter. Much as I am loathe to continue to aid him, considering his insistence on calling me by detestible terms, I feel I am responsible, as it is my own action and inaction that allowed for such sloppy healing. Quite justifiably, miss Drogheda was quite cross with me, and I will need to take her words to heart.
That said, those of this caravan are rather unneccesarily obstinate. Even when I’d nothing to do with my magic, she nearly did not allow me to heal her quite grevious wounds. I frankly cannot stand such obstinance at the cost of ones own health. Regardless, I do need to rest. I do ever so miss my morning runs.