s e i z e . t h e . d a y : {Carpe Diem} : w a t c h . f o b

The Journal of James Bronne

January 5th, 1809

Today marks the first day of the rest of my life.
Today I am headed North- one of the few settlers that has been brave, or stupid, enough to make the long trek. Sister and Mother both bid me farewell-- Father was too busy shoeing the horses to notice I was leaving, of course-- as I settled myself on my mare. My only company is the wind itself and my horse and mule to guide me. As Mother said, may the Lord be with me.

January 14th, 1809

I met an elderly trapper today. He claimed his name was Jackson-- yet he never revealed his christian name. He offered me some dried meat in return for some of the preservatives I had in my saddle bag. I gladly accepted, meat will be hard to come by where I am going-- and I am definitely not a fan of taking the beasts myself. I will turn my direction Westward and see if the footing becomes more reliable on the mountains.

February 24th, 1809

I heard wolves last night. They sounded like they were several hundred miles away, though it may have very well been just their howls echoing off the snowcaps. I've my rifle ready beside me just in case. For once I am honestly a little worried.

February 26th, 1809

I sit beside my fire tonight with a broken leg and hardly a morsel to eat. The same pack of wolves I heard two nights earlier came up on me and my horse and mule just before t'was dark on the horizon. Needless to say, my mule has high tailed it for the hills and my mare has wounds almost too deep to doctor. I believe I owe my life to a very unlikely Saint on this gruesome occasion. A single deer fought the demons away along side my trusted mare. She's small, now that I have a chance to look at her, but she fought with such ferocity that I find it only fair to share with her some of my food. She won't take it-- but its perched on a tree stump nearby.

February 27th, 1809

The doe stood vigilant, now several lengths from me. Her dark eyes were searching the dense thickets. Nothing had hinted of it's presence, yet she felt the need to keep watch. Her tail flicked slowly as her ears swiveled back and forth. She would let nothing go unnoticed whilst she was there. Her motherly instinct was nearly overwhelming-- to say the very least-- yet her small stature and bright eyes snitched her of her age. She was young, only a juvenile at the oldest.
I've decided to call her 'Watch Fob', for she is observant and brave.

March 1st, 1809

My mule returned to me today. I've found that many of my possessions are missing from the pack saddle. The food has stayed in-tact and hasn't gone bad from what I can tell-- I thank my dear Sister for such-- and my mare's health has slowly improved. The little blue deer was still here when I awoke this morning. She's small for a doe and appears to be around the age of seven or so months. Deer of her age usually are not old enough to be without the care of her mother for at least the smallest of things, yet she stands by me in a manner so guarding and loyal. I'm curious to know where she came from, seeing as her oddly colored pelt consists of various blues and shades of whites, for she is definitely not native to this area.

June 18th, 1810

It's been a year and two months now and my sightings of this small doe are growing fewer and even farther between. Lately she's been circling my campsite, yet her radius of travel greatly expands each day. I'm expected soon, but I refuse to leave without seeing her one last time. I fear she's been taken by a sportsman or even a farmer looking to put food on the table. I figured that being so far into the mountains would be a safe haven for any creature, man or beast. I suppose I had forgotten about the mountain men-- they would explain her disappearance.

August 7th, 1810

I was reminded early this morning just how fragile life is.
The blue doe I had obliged myself to search for in these many past months, though it seems like years, now lays in my arms with a single gunshot wound to her neck. From what I can tell, it appeared to be a quick end. There were no signs of a struggle in the year's early snowfall-- though that hardly made a difference to the emotional shock. It's difficult writing this with her lifeless body before me, but I feel that this young beauty deserves to be honored. This brave little soul fought the Devil's wolves away when I was surely their next meal... I pray she finds safety and warmth in a place made for her own kind.