Date: December 07, 2015
Location. Northwest shadows of the hardwood plains.
The hum of the death machine whirled by again this morning. Our count is now down to twenty five. It saddens my heart to think that at one time we numbered in the hundreds. We have lost, brothers, sisters, parents and uncles. Less and less folks are arriving from the hardwood plains of this dark place.
Today a sharp difference of opinion grows among us. Some wish to make a break across the plains. Others prefer a retreat to the dark crevices of our current position. That group, though they number less than 10, anticipates the arrival of reinforcements. There are no reinforcements, we are forgotten. Spring is here. It's just a matter of time until our remaining few are swept up in the horrendous gurgling of the Hoover throat.
God, have mercy on our souls