The north wind’s whisper has settled upon the Kansas City area. Already, I see madness strike at the minds of once-noble men and women as they seek to stock up on their food stores. All await the coming fury of Jack Frost.
I have come home to an empty house. I can only assume that my boys travel to seek aid amongst their fellow scouts, never letting their mother out of their site. I am proud of them. If we survive the coming blizzard, they will grow to be fine young men.
I have fed our tauntan, Glen, and polished his bridle and saddle. He is eating a hearty meal of oats and hay. I have placed a blanket on him for extra warmth. Glen is making the tauntaun equivalent of a purring sound, both soothing and disturbing at once. We shall soon need his services.
While I am not worried for our immediate future, I know that the human heart will eventually falter. Soon, we shall turn upon each other. I am now making a priority of shoring up our defenses. I have placed the counter-weight on the trebuchet, and am now looking for varieties of squash to use as ammunition. I feel, though, that we will need defenses for any close-quarter fighting. Originally I thought of my treasured bat’leths. Then I remembered that they were merely letter openers. Still, I own a rusty old sword and a rather sharp batarang. There may be some hope yet.
For now, I wait. The snow is coming. May God have mercy on our souls.