Upon my arrival back to the Soothery a package and a note waited for me. I don't know why she felt the need to inform me of this, feels like mockery. The more I learn of this woman, what she's said and written to others, the more foolish I feel for ever having put my trust in her. To have thought that
I've returned the package. It's better to not be in debt to her, not when I no longer trust what would be demanded in return.
The house must be looked over. Frost continues to slip in somewhere, I'm always cold and I have little desire to step outside. I should have studied the seasons better when living so far north.
I'll gather supplies and the work I've kept on the shelf for too long now. It's not as cold there. The peace I've found there has done me some good. It's frustrating that this whole matter clings to my mind and makes me bitter. I need peace from it.
