Year of the Boar, Sixth Month, Day 25.

I wept today; for the first time since I was a child, I put my head in my hands and I wept. Even now, I am so overwhelmed by my frustration that I can hardly think straight and I am making a mess of my papers again. If anyone ever does attempt to read them, they will find my last few entries barely legible.
Two or three days ago, as I neared the borders of Golden Harvest, I realised that my water bottle was not even a quarter full and as the days are getting hotter, I will be in need of as much water as I can get. Since my route was not due to take me near a stream until well after I had passed into Golden Harvest's lands, I had been using the water from my bottle to keep my hands and face at least vaguely clean - I can see now, that that was probably a mistake. I took a look at my map and saw that if I took a slight detour, I would reach a stream to the North East of Crying Orchid, sooner than I would if I stuck to the route I had originally planned. I was not entirely pleased at the prospect of staying on Crying Orchid's lands for longer than necessary but I believed that it would be more sensible than running out of water. As I was walking, I came across a copse, so I took the opportunity to hide myself there and have a nap until night had fallen. The moon was high and the sky clear, so I did not need to risk lighting the lantern, which I thought was fortunate. I was still very tired but I made myself keep walking through the night, stopping only once or twice for a brief rest, and when the first tentative slivers of dawn began to sneak across the sky, I found that the stream was only a mile or so away. I was thirsty when I reached it, so I knelt on the bank to cup some water in my hands and drink from it. As I did so, however, I noticed that the water was a strange reddish brown colour. At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me because I was so tired, but after I had tried a few handfuls I could see that it was not, and that the water had a slightly strange smell, too. It was somehow tainted. At that point, I did not feel even the slightest bit of despair for I knew that I could simply continue to walk for another mile or two beyond the source of the contamination and the water would be clean. In fact, I would say that I felt almost optimistic about the whole affair. By the time the sun had reached its peak however, I still had not found the source of the pollution and so I sat for a few moments to think about the situation. I looked at the map for a good while and I could see that I had two choices. Either I could immediately retrace almost all of my steps and cross into Golden Harvest a little further North East than I had planned and meet the river there a little later, or I could keep walking and hope that the source of the taint lay not too much further upstream. Staying close to the water I had already, seemed like the most sensible option at the time, so I folded up the map and hid it away - (it does not do to wander around looking lost, one can never tell who is lurking about waiting to prey on the vulnerable) - before setting off again. I walked and walked but still I found no clean water, stupidly I kept walking and this morning I had been awake and walking for two days when I finally found the source of the stream. A small spring bubbling up through some sort of rock formation, but the water was dirty; contaminated at source. And this spring is not on my map. If only it had been, I may not have made such a foolhardy decision. But then again, I still may not have seen that I had any choice. It was then that I sank to my knees and began to cry.
Although still frustrated, I am at least calm enough to have taken stock of my situation. I have hardly any water and very little food, if I do not find some help soon, I will die of starvation if not thirst. I do not regret my decision to leave home yet, though I may come to in the next few days. I do not know quite what course of action I should take, I am close to the coast now. In fact, I can see the ocean from where I sit and if I were not so annoyed with myself, I could probably muster some poetic lines about its great beauty. Where there are coasts, there are fisher-people, and where there are fisher-people, there must be water. But I cannot think clearly enough to calculate how many days I will need to walk to get there. My greatest concern is that the fisher-people may or may not be friendly and I should be disgusted if I had walked all this way, only to find that one of them contacted my Mother and had me sent back to the Castle. I know that sooner or later, I will just have to take the risk for if I do not, there is no question that I will die, but I am not quite ready to take that risk yet. My other option is to cross into Golden Harvest and walk inland to find that river but I do not know how long it will take me to get there. I must make a decision; usually I would take my time and consider every angle as closely as possible before choosing my course of action. But time is the one luxury I do not have. I must make for the coast. I can see it, at least. And if I die trying to get there, at least I will die free.