A sense of urgency overcame me yesterday evening as the sun worked its way toward the horizon. I had watched its descent with fascination as it turned the springtime green of the forest into fall shades of red and orange. Time had again caught up with us. The desire rose up within me to see Aesry again, to once more step upon its sandy shores. I thought of the road ahead and bit back a howl of frustration for all that stood before me yet on this Quest. Would I even see Aesry before the end of summer which itself was just around the corner?

The mood within me had turned to a quiet anger, directionless and therefore a fire that threatened to consume any nearby fuel, myself included. I turned from my perch on Ankh Duhr and strode resolutely toward the Rest of Ages Inn. I had planned to face the Meys north of Leth Deriel tonight, but discarded that as soon as the aimless energy had arose: There would be time in Aesry for me to confront those fae creatures, but not now. No, now I had the goad of this strange angst pressing me southward. I had to continue...

I hit the Inn with a grumbling impact that sent the pages and bellhops ricocheting about the place to prepare for my departure. Damaria, bless her patience and her coolness, read my mood easily with but a look and a tingling brush of empathic contact. While I proceeded to gather our belongings, the Healer worked alongside me and quietly soothed any ruffled feathers my haste had caused.

Within an hour we were quit of the city, the long stretch of the trade route disappearing into the gloom before us. The light of the moons was partially diluted by low lying clouds and my own black fog that hindered my vision as much as it overwhelmed my wisdom. I stepped beside Damaria, taking a place that would allow me to protect her from any sudden attack, and proceeded without word down the road. She left me in my own thoughts while I grappled with this feeling. I had not yet even a notion of its name let alone concept of its cause.

A gentle touch to my elbow halted my march after several leagues. I turned...I must admit I do not know if I was to respond in snippety anger or childish resentment, but both emotions faded at the Elf's smile. "You almost missed it," her hand waved toward a deeper darkness that suggested a trail leading off into the mountains. "Along that way is where Snowbeasts are, mon Coeur. Did you not wish to face these on your quest?"

For a moment I thought to go onward and simply obey the impulse to move swiftly. Movement was all that was in my mind, but Damaria's calm words began to break through the need to just go, go anywhere. I turned toward her with the beginning of my first good cheer of the evening. The smile died half-formed upon my lips as I saw the shapes looming behind her. I spun the elf around so she was pressed against my back, and my axe faced the trio of Snowbeasts who fast came upon us.

They moved toward us with horrible speed, the two in front alternating between running upright and loping upon paws that would fit better upon a timber wolf. Their tongues rolled out of their toothsome maws, and green catlike eyes flashed brightly as they howled their insatiable hunger. I set myself to brace for their charge and paused only long enough to step in front of the one that attempted to pull Damaria from my side. They howled in frustrated madness, and the fury that had been within me howled past my mustache in response.

Blood made a crimson arc as the first fell as soon as it was within reach. I threw the second off balance when it tried to follow as I circled around to face the third's charge. The Snowbeasts think nothing of their own preservation unless the wound is already half-fatal. This thought was not within my mind as I sunk the axe into the skull of the freshest beast. I had to use both hands upon the shaft and my boot upon the corpse's chest to pull it out. The axe came free, and I spun with the momentum to dance away from the last creature's claws.

When it turned to chase after me, all it met was death from my two-handed chop. I was left there panting, and the extra energy of the evening simply vanished. I fell to my knees suddenly weary as never before. What was before the urge for movement became the weariness of a year's worth of travel. At last this madness was lifted from my eyes. I blinked, and it was Damaria's hand that brushed away a stray hair from before my face. Her smile was patient and brought back mine from whence it had fled.

I stood and felt strength come again into my frame. What was this that had gripped me, I still do not know. I thanked the Healer as well I could, and turned again to the quest.

The Snowbeast's pelts are already patchy and scarred, so it takes an expert's skill to pull anything of value from their husks. I have skinned them once, but have no witnesses to support my claim as these three did not give up their skins so easily. I can take this moment to banish any belief that Snowbeasts are made of actual snow, as they turn to dust much as any beast when they decompose. They have no concept of coin or gem, so unless you know your way about a skinning knife, do not attempt to find your fortunes here.

You will find Snowbeasts within the ice-locked valley known as the "Gash" or further south past the Gondola to where Gargoyles wander the wilderness. Damaria and I wandered the Gash, its barren landscape broken only by the occasional landmark, howling Snowbeast, or resolute hunter. The beasts hit as hard or harder than Swamptrolls but with a little less stamina and twice the speed. To be honest, they no longer held great interest to us, and we spent the time trying to stay warm with a shared cloak.

At last finished, we traveled uneventfully over the Great Rift and made our way to Fayrin's Rest. Damaria has gone to gain rooms at the Inn, and I sit here now writing till sleep calls. I wish I knew what had gripped my heart, and this not knowing leaves my fingers somewhat skittish. Perhaps this will be seen in the future, Good Reader.