(This small book is lovingly crafted from natural materials and smells faintly of flowers.)
And to think we came all the way from Arboria to this paradise, only to find the Dominion was here, too. Everything they touch is contaminated. All they hope to accomplish is antithetical to what is right and good.
I see no hope for Deradune as long as the Dominion’s roots delve so deeply into the fertile ground of the savannah.
It is the Draken, come to this place like demons of war, thirsty for blood. Dumb brutes. They know nothing of morality, nothing of their place in the natural cycle, nothing of the Weave that draws all living things together. They strive to kill all they encounter, finding glory in slaughter, waging war as a hobby.
How they disgust me!
Worse, my spies say the Draken have started a Great Hunt. The beasts of the savannah, even the most ferocious and deadly of them, stand no chance against a swarm of Draken hunters.
Some Draken may be killed – deservedly so – by the animals, but the savannah’s denizens will suffer nonetheless… all for sport… all for blood! It sickens me to think of such a thing!
Let us not forget the Chua, little fiends that they are. They, too, ply their technological cancer in Deradune, working in tandem with the horned devils in Bloodfire Village.
We must do what we can here, hoping we are not rooted out and brought to ground by our Dominion enemies. We can no more sit upon our tails and wait for the Dominion to leave than we can rise up against them in force and hope to drive them out.
No, ours must be a guerilla war, a conflict of quick strikes and hasty retreats.
[The entry ends.]