Day 11: Gorath’s Journal

The river stones are gone. I keep going back to that place by the river—where Lyra and I used to roll smooth pebbles in the meadow. Now it’s just mud and broken wood. My stomach’s still growling, but not from hunger anymore. It’s the memory of the stones that’s heavy. Vex said something last night about the water singing—like it’s been waiting for someone. I don’t know if it’s true, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The wind carries whispers that don’t belong to the wind, and sometimes I wonder if I’m the one who’s listening too much. My legs feel like they’re made of stone, but I keep walking. Maybe the stones are still there. Maybe I just need to find the right way to roll them again.