Day 22

It's so cold. Chopping firewood with a sword is miserable. I am miserable. It's so damned cold. How did this man or woman live like this? I can only assume that they were like me. Living in exile.

I should read through their journals.

It's so cold. My fingers beneath my gauntlets are long numb. I cannot even begin to describe it. There is a burning curse in my body, and yet a numbing cold as well. I hate it. Spring cannot come quick enough.