I woke to Duskwood’s familiar hush and found myself deeper in its business than I’d planned. The Night Watch kept me busy from the moment I stepped into Darkshire — errands for Apothecary Johaan, deliveries of rot blossoms and corpseweed, and a trip to Manor Mistmantle where a cold ring answered questions better left unasked. Somewhere between graves and ruined hedgerows I learned Trueshot, and later Tar Trap, and they both fit my hands like old friends. I even hit level 29 in the Scarlet Raven Tavern and then, to my surprise and delight, climbed to level 30 beneath the trees; a hunter’s cheer sounded in my own head and I wore it all day.
Between helping townsfolk and gathering herbs — bruiseweed, briarthorn, kingsblood, corpseweed — there was the darker work: driving off Splinter Fist ogres, returning a thief’s crate, and finishing a ghastly errand that left me admitting aloud to myself that I’d been manipulated. I delivered a note to Mayor Ebonlocke, accepted a host of new tasks, and completed the grim business born of Abercrombie’s schemes. The Embalmer’s Revenge is done for now, but the woods keep their secrets; I sleep with bow within reach and the Night Watch breathing easier because of it.