The day is April 5th, 1892, for one day short of a fortnight I have remained ensnared within this dreary cabin, caring for my ailing son, Torsten. Much time has passed, devoid of signs of improvement. I have then come to the apprehensive conclusion that I must voyage to the towns to gather medicinal supplies. My only concern is whether Torsten can persist awaiting my arrival, only time will tell. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to venture out into the forest to embark on my thirty-mile trek to civilization. Then, at the first glimpse of daybreak I saunter out of the safety of my cabin into the unforgiving wilderness. The sound of leaves crunching under my boots brings back fond memories of times I hiked these very mountains with
