Dear Brother,

I have undertaken a new project. It is broad in scope, and, I hope, vital in it’s depth. To the north of Kern is a small tribe of native savages. They live simple lives – Hunters, fishers, and farmers, yet their culture is rich.

I am writing their stories, translating them as faithfully as I can. They have no written language, and operate entirely on an oral tradition. This project could make me famous!

How are you? How is Bethel? And our Mother? I’ve been gone for too long already, yet I’m only starting to sink my teeth into this. I miss you all dearly, and hope to be home before the winter. It get’s cold up here, and while the locals may be comfortable in furs as thick as a man’s hand I certainly am not.

Give our family my love,

Frederic.

 

First Verse of The Song of The Ancient Ones

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