Day 4,509

There was one reason I hated dense forests: mosquitoes.

The tiny suckers swarmed me almost as soon as I had stepped foot beneath the dark green canopies of the trees, and I had to defend myself constantly from their annoying and persistent attacks. Hours went by as I began my search for the Muulwark, and by noon, angry red bites covered my hands and face. I was fortunate that I am wearing my leather armor and trousers. Otherwise, even my arms and legs would not be spared.

It was late afternoon when I found the first sign of my quarry: a large tree uprooted and lying on its side, gnawed on as if by some giant dog, saliva still dripping from its bark. Most monsters tend to do this, of course. But as far as I know, only a Muulwark lives in this forest.

I continued my search with more wariness. The gnawed tree trunk was not the only sign I discovered. A trail ran north fifteen minutes from where I had found the tree trunk, and I followed it until the sunlight completely left the forest and the only light came from an early full moon.

In the darkness of the forest, I knew I was not safe. So I searched for a suitable hiding place until I found a small depression in the ground large enough to fit me. As I am writing this, I am huddled with my pack and weapons within easy reach, listening for any unnatural sound that would betray the Muulwark’s approach. I didn’t have time to set up any kind of traps, but my hearing is as good as a wolf.

Just now, I heard a roar.