Letters from a Young Explorer

Peters, As you advised, I’ve tracked the Sun Giant through The Gauntlet, keeping a fine distance. So far, it doesn’t seem to have caught a whiff of me at all, the great brute. I must admit to some impatience, and my trigger finger itches to claim its trophy. Your wild claims are all that keep my discipline intact, and, if the beast truly does guard some vast treasure in its lonely hovel, I’ll be returning to the Diogenes Club with unmatched spoils. Can you imagine? Me, fresh from my first independent excursion, carting in heaps of gold and jewels? What a glorious introduction that will make. Expect me soon, joining you as a full-fledged Explorer. Your friend, Jeremiah Grey

Peters, It’s been a long and slow journey, with yet no sign of the giant’s lair. I keep a few yards back, tracking quietly, and still I go unnoticed. You should see me, slinking like a cat after a mouse the size of a train car. I’ve a good view of the thing now, pitching its little camp, roasting mongrels on a spit for its supper. Funny how, from such a distance, its scale is lost. To a tired eye, it might seem to be a nearer man, going about its nightly business as you or I. I suppose it’s much like watching a trained bear walk about the circus on two legs. Imitating those it sees, but an animal all the same. Jeremiah Grey

Peters, After all these long days, I’ve reached the giant’s hovel. I expected something akin to a cave. A den, like any other beast, but he’s made himself a house of logs. It has a thatch roof, just like the cabin I visited as a boy. The giant brought his pack inside, and, through the windows, I saw him arrange his treasures on shelves and sills. He tidied, washed his clothes, set a kettle boiling on the stove. I’ve never seen an animal behave so… I will slay the beast and return with those treasures. Though I find that, even when an opportunity presents itself, I hesitate. For fear of missing, I suppose. But I shall rest well tonight, and, in the morning, claim my trophy with a steadier hand. Jeremiah

Peters, If my pen should shake as I write, know that it takes all my strength to steady it even to this degree. I shall not be returning to the Diogenes Club. To see your face again would be too great a shame. I had the giant in my sights, ready to take his head, when he turned to look me dead in the eye. He gave a long sigh and spoke a quiet word, like a prayer. It was as if he knew I brought his death, and he knew that no recourse would avail him. I felt as if I looked into your eyes then. The eyes of any fellow man. He lives as we do, acts as we do. How can we believe that he does not <i>think</> and <i>feel</> as we do? To take his life would be no honorable hunt; it would be murder. If this is what the Geoarcane Society expects of its recruits, then I can call myself one no longer.