I can feel it in my weary bones, in my aching soul. I am hungry and thirsty and cold. So very cold. The ship has been without power for several days now, and I have been without food or drink nearly as long. It is as if we suffer as one, the Fancy and I. Suffering in some shared fate, neither of us to gain the sustenance that would allow us to carry on. I pray that with my life ends my existence upon this cursed plane. The ship’s shell can be revived, can be restored and readied for further adventures. And me? Although by all rights I am doomed to return, I will not allow it. I will try my damnedest to leave nothing behind. No part of me to return. Those who hunger for my life shall have what they crave. And I pray they take it all. But again I digress. The creatures didn’t follow us back to the medical unit to attack at once, as we feared they would. No, it was an hour or so before anything happened, and it wasn’t an attack.
