Cold

It's getting so cold out. My hands hurt like hell. I've been wrapping them with wool under my gauntlets. But it's not just the cold in Northrend. It's cold in Silvermoon, it's cold in Thunder Bluff. Some days, I can barely get them in my gauntlets. I had to get bigger ones, so they'd fit on, especially when I wrap them up. I also made sure i got locking ones, so I don't have to worry about holding the hilt. The shield I just strap to my arm, like always, so my right hand doesn't usually hurt as much as the left. I haven't been writing lately, because half the time, I can't hold a pen. Luckily, my friend's cousin's daughter, Sara, got me a pair of fingerless gloves. She knows about the importance of having gloves for different situations.

Cousin's daughter. What is that, first-once-removed? I've never really thought about that sort of thing. She's called me Aunt Ten for awhile now, though. I've known her since she was a child, when I was training Araenna in the finer points of the healing arts. It's so odd, having family. And having them be people I already know. And one of them being Tomah's ex. That I kinda stole him from.. At least she always liked me, and still does. I haven't seen her in forever. I hope she's doing well..

The whelps try to help, with the keeping my hands warm. They take turns warming up hot water bottles, and rocks, and keep them near my hands. It's rather sweet, really. I think Atra came up with it, oddly enough. He's the only whelp not talking now. In fact, the other ones are doing fairly well with common. I think he understands it. I'm thinking I should take him to Wyrmrest, see if there's some sort of healer-dragon, who can make sure he can talk.

A Faire member was killed. It was either the person who killed Ona-whatsist, or a copycat. I dunno which, but I'm certainly not staying the night at the grounds anymore.