Day 1 — Beyond the City Walls

Dear diary...

I have done it.

I have actually done it.

After eleven years at the Cathedral, countless conversations about what I ought to do with my life, and one particularly emotional farewell in which Father insisted on checking my boots for the third time, I have finally left Stormwind.

Mother cried. Then she told me to eat properly, keep my cloak dry, and avoid men who describe themselves as adventurers. I promised to do my best on all three counts. I don't think she believed me.

I confess that walking through the city gates this morning was rather more frightening than I expected. I've been outside Stormwind before, of course, but always with somewhere particular to go and the comfortable certainty of returning home afterwards.

Today, I walked out without knowing when I would come back.

For a little while, I simply stood on the road, looking at the trees.

Then a passing merchant asked whether I was lost. I told him I was beginning an adventure. He looked at my travelling bag, my rather new-looking boots, and the prayer book tucked beneath my arm.

"Right," he said. "Well, good luck with that."

I suspect I did not inspire confidence.

Elwynn Forest is beautiful.

I know that sounds terribly obvious, but I don't think I ever properly appreciated it before. The sunlight filtering through the leaves, the birds calling to one another, the little streams running beside the road. Everything seems so wonderfully alive.

And there are people everywhere! Farmers, merchants, guards, travellers. People with stories I've never heard, troubles I've never imagined, and an astonishing willingness to entrust complete strangers with important errands.

I've spent most of today helping wherever I could. Delivering things, speaking to people, investigating various local difficulties, and discovering that the countryside contains a remarkable number of creatures determined to bite me.

I had rather imagined my first day would involve tending a few minor injuries, perhaps offering comfort to an elderly farmer, and finding a pleasant spot beneath a tree to eat my supper. Instead, I have been threatened by wolves, startled by things rustling in bushes, and obliged to defend myself considerably more often than I would have liked.

I am beginning to understand why the Cathedral instructors looked so concerned when I announced my plans.

Still, I managed! Not always gracefully, admittedly. At one point I became so distracted watching a deer that I wandered rather farther from the road than intended. I spent the next quarter of an hour pretending I was exploring deliberately.

There was nobody there to see me, which made the pretence rather unnecessary. I did it anyway. I keep thinking about why I came. At the Cathedral, everything had its place. There were schedules, duties, familiar faces, and people far wiser than I was to turn to whenever something went wrong.

Out here, I am simply Holly.

Twenty-seven years old, reasonably competent at healing people, and apparently expected to know what to do when confronted by an angry wolf.

I don't. Not yet. But I want to learn. I want to see the great cities I've only read about. I want to meet people whose lives are nothing like mine. I want to discover what lies beyond these forests, beyond the familiar roads, perhaps even beyond the kingdom itself. Most of all, I want to be useful. Not merely the sort of useful that comes from knowing the right prayer or having the right training. I want to be the person who arrives when someone has almost given up hoping that help will come.

I know I cannot save everyone. I know that. But perhaps I can make the world a little kinder in the places where I happen to find myself. That seems a worthy enough ambition for one lifetime.

And if I happen to see some extraordinary things along the way, I shan't complain.

It is growing dark now. My feet ache, my cloak has acquired a suspicious stain, and I have discovered muscles I wasn't previously aware of possessing. I am also quite certain that I have forgotten something important. Possibly several things.

I have already discovered that travelling requires considerably more practical knowledge than I possess. Finding somewhere to sleep, keeping one's belongings dry, knowing which paths are safe...

And cooking. I really must acquire a cooking pot.

I have three spare pairs of socks, two books, enough bandages to wrap a small horse, and absolutely no means of preparing a proper hot meal. Mother would be appalled.

Actually, Mother would probably say she told me so. She would be correct, which is worse.

But despite everything, I cannot stop smiling.

This morning I was a priestess leaving the only life she'd ever really known. Tonight, I am sitting beneath an unfamiliar roof, listening to the sounds of the forest outside, with absolutely no idea what tomorrow might bring.

I am a little frightened. Quite tired. And so terribly, wonderfully excited that I doubt I'll sleep for hours.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll find someone who needs healing. Perhaps I'll discover another village, make a new friend, or learn something useful about surviving in the wilderness.

Perhaps I'll simply get lost again. Whatever happens, I think I shall be all right.

And if I'm not, well... I'll have to figure something out. That's rather the point of coming, isn't it?

P.S. Must remember to write to Mother.

P.P.S. Must not mention the wolves.

P.P.P.S. Cooking pot. Seriously, Holly.