Aged Hide Scroll

Frostfall Moon - Day 12 [4 days until I meet the High Priestess]
All the hard work has finally paid off! The Autumn Priestess praised my hide-drying during the Harvest Season. She said I did it beautifully. Tonight, she told me that the High Priestess will be coming to meet me in a few days!
This is the greatest news ever! If she approves, I'll become one of the Four Season Priests! Countdown begins today! Ta-da!
I'll prepare my best ceremonial robe, comb my hair until it shines. I heard the High Priestess will test us through questions to determine which seasonal path fits best: I've secretly practiced the Spring Priests' sowing song, the Summer Priests' fire moon dance, and the Autumn Priests' harvest ledgers. As for the Winter Priestess... no, I'd rather leave that to someone else. Those cold-faced law-owners who scold all day aren't for me.

Frostfall Moon - Day 13 [3 days until I meet the High Priestess]
Last night I dreamed of my first ancestral vision: The White Wolf, huge and gleaming, said to me: "You shall be the eye of the Four Seasons." Isn't that a divine calling?
Even while drying hides today, a great hawk circled overhead as if blessing me!

Frostfall Moon - Day 14 [2 days until I meet the High Priestess]
While practicing the rites, Elder Jima, one of the Winter Priestesses, suddenly grabbed my wrist." "Winter isn't as dreadful as you think..." she rasped, "Sometimes... reflection is the greatest form of kindness." I forced a smile and ran. There was something dark and sticky under her fingernails. I was afraid.

Frostfall Moon - Day 15 [1 day until I meet the High Priestess]
Tomorrow's the day! My heart's pounding with excitement!

Frostfall Moon - Day 15
(The handwriting here becomes erratic)
The Byrnhalds are attacking... The fields are burning... the homes are aflame...
I'm clutching the wooden idol of the ancestral spirit and running toward the marsh. I turned back and saw-
(A large section is scorched, only fragments remain legible)

... The Autumn Priestess's crown hanging from a spear tip...
... The flames of the Summer Altar turning the night sky red...

Deepwinter Moon - Day...
There is no High Priestess.
There are no Seasons.
Only the rotting grain in the mud, and a promotion day forever frozen in "tomorrow."

The fangs of the ancestral spirit... have finally shown me the way.
Silver... is the color of winter.