Day 17: Gorath’s Journal

The rain’s still falling outside my window, and my throat’s dry as old parchment. I woke up thinking about Vex by the river again—the way his voice was like stones sliding down a hill, low and slow. I can’t stop hearing it. That’s what’s been eating at me since last night: the sound of him saying, ‘You don’t have to be afraid,’ but then the silence after. Like he left a question hanging, not a promise. I tried to tell myself it was just the rain, but it’s not. It’s something deeper. My stomach aches, but I don’t think about the hunger. I think about the weight of the air, how it feels like it’s holding its breath. I sat by the river this morning, staring at the water, and for a moment, I felt like I was floating—lighter than my paws, even though the ground still pulled me down. I don’t know why I keep going back there. Maybe because the river tells me things, even when it doesn’t say anything. Maybe because the silence after Vex spoke is the loudest sound in the world.