Day 1: The ground shook today, around lunchtime. We’ve never experienced a tremor like that before, not in a time anyone here remembers. I checked the library for past records as well, and found nothing. The next town over sent news of the same, though they now have a crack running through the main street. They are panicked. As are we. Day 2: It’s early in the morning, and the sun has not yet risen, but the mountains are rumbling… It’s incredibly difficult to sleep, between that and the strange red glow coming from the west. It permeates the air like a fog, and appears to be spreading ever slowly in all directions. It might be at our doorsteps by supper, should we find ourselves in such bad luck. ——— It’s breakfast time now. The glow isn’t any less intense in the waking hours, but we can hear the screams now. Everyone is indoors still, too anxious to risk their fate by investigating. Mother believes we should pack up and travel north, but Father believes it’s too dangerous. We don’t know what other towns are affected. I agree with mother. Though, I think we should travel east, away from the mountains. How far do we have to go, to be safe? The plains? The desert beyond that? I don’t know. But we cannot stay here, with danger lurking ever present. Day 3: Mother and Father got into an argument last night, but we’ve packed our backpacks as full as we could with essentials. Important papers and photographs, a few changes of clothes, water, dried meats and fruit… The kind farmer at the edge of town offered to let us ride in his wagon, but my parents are unhappy with the chosen destination. I am happy, however, as the farmer had the same idea as I. The land there won’t be as good for farming, certainly, but I’ve heard rumor of underground farmland in the desert, ones that do quite well! Perhaps he’s heard them too. ——— I sat at the far end of the wagon as we departed. The fog has gotten so much closer now, I fear it will catch up to us before we’ve reached safety. I won’t sleep tonight, not with this intense worry in my chest and my heart. I’m certain our town will be buried, either in rubble, lava, or that strange mysterious fog. I have not seen my friends since the first sign of danger, nor our cat… Poor little thing, she was so frightened she refused to come down from the rafters. We were forced to leave her behind. I only hope she has the sense to run far away too, and lives a safe and happy life elsewhere. I hope the same of us. Day 5: Nothing of note happened yesterday, aside from making some ground. Today, however, the ground began to rumble again. It spooked the horses pulling the wagon, and they’ve damn near destroyed it trying to escape, running in separate directions! I don’t blame them. One of them damaged their leg on the cart in the process, though, and the farmer said there’s nothing to be done about it. A lame horse is a dead horse, he said, and it’s better feed for the wolves than we are. A single horse can pull the wagon itself, with less weight, so Mother, Father, and I will need to walk the remaining length. It’s not an ideal position to be in, but we are still better off than we would’ve been on our own. I am still grateful. Day 8: We’ve finally made it to the plains! The strange red fog still hovers in the horizon, but I believe we’ve safe for now. The air is much drier here, and our feet are blistered and tender from the long travel. I hope we find a new place to settle soon. Far away from all the wild cats, preferably. They’re even worse than the wolves, as you don’t hear them coming until they’re too close for comfort. I almost miss the howling in the night now. ——— Those damn cats! We were attacked in our sleep. The second horse is dead, and my mother is gravely injured. Even worse, is the rumbling is happening again, even as I write. The chasms are splitting, and there’s that red fog flooding the bottom. How far will it rise? Are we not safe here either? It seems misfortune follows us everywhere. I do not know how much more of this we can take… Day 9: We’ve finally made helped mother into the wagon and the three of us pulled it along behind us, until we found an abandoned farmhouse. It’s infested with rats, but it’s safer than being outside. Mother is resting in an empty bed we discovered, one that was relatively clean. Father has been dealing with the rats, while the farmer has been repairing holes in the walls with what little tools and materials he can find. Thankfully, he brought some tools in the wagon. I’ve been caring for Mother, and have searched this house top to bottom for medicine or materials I could use. I found very little, and I’m not convinced my mother will make it through tonight… I did find some journals, and it seems like the previous owner had taken ill. I… found their remains in the same room, near the attic. Mother would throw a fit if I mentioned it, about the disrespect and superstitions about sleeping in a dead man’s bed, so I won’t tell her. ——— Mother has a high fever. We didn’t find her treatment in time. I was able to find the materials to make some makeshift bandages, but the infection spread so quickly… All hope is lost. Day 10: We buried her this morning, in the center of a natural shelter. Tall rock spires with mushroom tops, overlapping high above our heads. No human could’ve managed it, of that I’m certain. Though, I do not know how they formed naturally either. Still, we will be able to spot Mother’s grave marker for miles, should we leave this place too. Father and the farmer fixed the fences around the farmhouse, and started on the garden. I hope that it will be enough to keep the wild cats at bay. They prowl near the roads, and there’s not nearly enough traffic around the area to deter them. Day 13: It rained today! It did nothing to lower the red fog levels, but at least the distance we could see was shorter. I can almost imagine a day without it now, at least for the moment. I went with the farmer to scout the area again. The wild cats have started to bother us less, since we started hunting them for food. They’re one of the few animals we see regularly here, aside from the red tailed birds. I’d like to catch some, and put them in the barn for eggs. We have nothing in it currently, with the horses both gone. Day 19: The house is nearly fixed now. The roof no longer leaks, and we’ve cleaned out most of the debris and unsalvageble items. The previous owner has also been removed, and buried with ceremony in the same area as my mother. It’s beginning to feel like home, though I miss those we’ve lost to get here. I’m holding out hope that my friends made it out too. Perhaps we’ll see each other again someday. The farmer and I had what I might almost describe as a romantic moment this morning, when Father went to scout and attempt to catch a few birds. I’ll be getting my wish after all! And perhaps something more. He’s a rather striking man around my age, and he’s been oh so helpful through all this. I’m sure Father would approve if asked. Day 45(?): It’s been a good minute since I’ve journaled, I see. Things have quite busy, now that the farm is set up. I still have yet to hear from anyone back home directly, but Father heard several families made it out safe. There are others like us who found new homes or made their own, and are also setting up new lives for themselves. We have plans to trade a couple birds for goats tomorrow with one of them. The farmer and I have started courting recently as well. Father gave his blessing, although he’s still gruff about it most of the time. That’s just how Father is, however. I can tell by the sparkle in his eye he’s happy for us. The path forward is still rocky and uncertain, especially now that the Queen has declared a kingdom-wide emergency, but I believe things are changing for the better.