22nd Bleakmoon 694 in the Cycle of the Red Sun

That was no parrot. Shortly after dawn's light began to filter down into the Scar a great cacophony of bird song erupted and a horde of razor beaked predator birds appeared like a cloud of fury just outside the cave we were staying in. A few small animals I had seen outside our refuge were stripped to the bone by this terrifying hurricane of feathers before it dispersed in a burst of squawking and in-fighting. Kresho says Master Verin and I should leave now before more of the Scar's creatures begin to awaken. Master is having none of the orc's gloomy portent and has tasked me with assembling a proper sling for our guide's arm using the fibers I collected earlier.

I learned only the most basics of first aid but I am proud of what I've made. Kresho seems less impressed. Though he has not fought our inclination to try and save him I can see in his eyes he believes our efforts to be in vain. Such is the nature of those men who live tough lives never to expect more than the least. I hope Master Verin and I will prove Kresho's pessimism wrong. If we can survive the day in the cave we will have ample time to reach the other side of the Scar. Though if this valley's birds are as piranhas of the sky perhaps I should join in Kresho's pessimism. A few sharpened sticks and heavy stones does not a grand armory make...