My name is Myla Flintmane, a few days ago I was taken by a group of Orcs. I think they killed my parents, and took me as their prize. I don't know why I'm still alive, my parents told me that they never cared about anyone other than themselves, so why would they spare my life? I'm not exactly sure where it is I am. I just know it's dark and cold. There is always something happening, noises keeping me awake when I think it's nighttime. What started as a simple journey with my parents, Nathatir and Brynn rest their souls, became disaster. And now I am all that's left. The only one who knows what happened. I was surprised when they let me keep my bag with me. Though most of it's contents are useless. Just a hairbrush, a cloth, and my book. I've decided to use it's empty pages and write down the horrors that happen here, so one day if someone were to find this, they would know what happened to me, and my existence will be known to those that read it. I fear I won't be able to write any more at the moment, I can hear them coming. I only hope that what becomes of me is painless.