I've come to expect unusual dreams. Whatever it is The Sick Land does to the human mind seems to manifest itself in my subconscious. Last night's dream was unlike the other dreams I've had here.
I was standing on a vast tundra. It was empty in every direction, apart from a small fire in front of me. I approached the fire. The ground under my feet was frozen dirt. As I got closer to the fire, I could see a figure behind it. An ancient, weathered woman sat on the ground. Her hair was steel grey and hung limply to her shoulders, which were wrapped in a filthy animal skin. Her pale eyes were fixed on me. She told me to come and sit by the fire. I sat down next to her, cross legged on the dirt. Between us lay the prehistoric tool. The old woman stared into the fire. I stared too. The flames wavered and the wood crackled and spat. The woman turned to me and looked down at the tool. I followed her eyes. There were two tools there now: the one I had pulled from the ground, and one that looked as if it had been carved yesterday. The woman stared back into the fire.