I followed the trail Horatio set me on and by nightfall Westfall felt a little less like a patchwork of rumors and a little more like a place I could read. The Riverpaw gnolls and the Longshore murlocs gave up what they knew—small things, but enough to point me toward Two-Shoed Lou at the old pumpkin farm. Lou is a sore sort of comfort: cantankerous, grateful for a favor returned, and oddly proud to hand me a crate that used to be his home. I did what Lou asked and hid where he told me to, and the rest of the farm’s fragmentary clues fell together like a tattered map finally smoothed out.
There was work at the Saldean’s, too—farmers with hands in the dirt and hearts stretched thin. I picked up stew ingredients, returned them, and watched a woman named Salma hand me a task that led to Sentinel Hill. Along the way I wrestled with harvest watchers, found their heart, and managed to put it right; the golems at Molsen answered when they should. I even had time to cull kobolds and gather dirt and coyote tails for the poor souls who call this place home.
Best of all, I leveled up twice today—hooray! I’m now level 14, and it felt like a proper fanfare when it happened, as if the hills themselves cheered. The Westfall Brigade and a handful of new leads wait at the tower: Jango’s been dealt with, but there are whispers of Helix and Moonbrook yet to answer. I’ll rest tonight with bow within reach and set out for Moonbrook and beyond come dawn.