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The next thing I can remember was our arrival at the river. It was on the map (which offered final proof to me that Galion was indeed no fool), but I had failed to anticipate the fury with which it ran. Contrary to popular belief, meatbugs can swim - but only in very still water, and they do so very slowly. This river, thin as it was, would tear any bug that went into it apart before they could even say "ouch". Beyond the river, a massive fortress with enourmous wooden walls loomed over us - a human encampment, but it was due west of our target destination.

There was a bridge in the process of being built over the river, but it was incomplete. There seemed to be no way to cross. I sent a small party of meatbugs, perhaps a dozen, westward along the water to try and find a way over. The rest of the bugs and I would set out east.

The party was never seen again... but I know, deep inside, that they would not have stopped until either dead or until they found land's end. I can only assume the former, for two reasons. One was that I had scribed for them as well a copy of the map. The other was that when I tried to envision them (I'm a seer, remember?), all I saw was a set of cold stone walls with a heavy iron gate, with a rough, empty courtyard behind them, inhabited by a pack of snappers, vicious two-legged lizards who can outrun even humans.

Westward bound on the river, we were assaulted by god knows how many creatures, and lost many of our dear brethren. At last, we came to an end... a cliff, with a waterfall pouring from the top. But hope was still there; the cliff seemed to be terraced, in a human fashion. We had to brave a seemingly endless forest to get there, it appeared.

But, in spite of our fears of running into a pack of rabid wolves, our travels through the woods were surprisingly calm. We found a large growth of hell mushrooms to satisfy our aching bellies, and managed to get some meat from a molerat we killed. Yes, we meatbugs had, by now, learned to be vicious. Though our attacks alone may have been too pathetic for anything else to imagine, we had numbers. In spite of our losses, the survivors of the mother meatbug clan still numbered well over two hundered. When we exited the forest, we found ourselves at a fork in the road.

A large, flat rock sat in the middle of two paths leading left and right, respectively. Fortunately, I had comitted Galion's map and notes to heart by now, and he had a note about this area. He took the right path and ended up at a human mine, which was clearly inhabited by the burning torches that stood what seemed miles above us. I, for one, had no desire to be skewered on the end of a rusty pickaxe after all I had been through with my people. We headed up the left path, with took us over a steep hill.

At the top of that hill, we looked west and rejoiced. The river was there, and we had arrived at the top of the cliff! A human bridge (a smooth one, surprising for human construction) led over the river. For what seemed the first time in ages, I took out the map and traced our route. I checked and double-checked the position. It was correct. I hurried out, climbed upon a rock, and to my brothers I delivered the joyous message that, in only a two-hour journey west, the land lay.

I have never felt happier than I did when the crowd cheered out in their squeaks and peeps. We were in the home stretch. Our vigor refreshed by the prospect, we traveled onward, and in merely an hour and fifteen minutes, we were there.

Waves upon waves of lush, tall grass rolled through the field, and from our elevated point we sighted the huts out on the side of a calm lake. It was truely a beautiful sight. Some young 'bugs were a tad disillusioned, but all others saw that it was more than excellent for us. We entered the houses, stayed the night, and then did our one remaining job. We cleared the field of all rogue scavengers, and secured a small spot where hell mushrooms grew.

There are two blank leaves following this, and then a short note on another leaf that appears to have been written in great haste. It translates to the following.

You think that was the end of our worries, though? See for yourselves. Have a look around. Do you see any meatbugs anywhere? Well, do you? I didn't think so. There is still a great deal of the story to tell; but I've decided that it's time to change my hiding spot. My pursuers cannot read this document, nor will they think much of a pile of leaves. I am traveling to an abandoned spot on the map - an old orc courtyard, it says. You will find the end of the story there.

The second part of the document was found at what appears to be an old abandoned orcish arena, located at the end of the trail westward of the former hut of Cavalorn, a hunter. It was inhabited by snappers and two orc warriors - this pile of leaves was found in the inner sanctum of the courtyard, in a pit surrounded by a ring of valuable potions.

Hello again. So glad you could make it.

I'll pick up right where I left off. I avoided my enemies for the time being, but they never lose a scent. So, good student, here is the rest of our tragic tale. Please excuse if my scribing is not too well, but time is very, very short now.

We meatbugs lived in peace and prosperity in the secluded valley for a time. But, our space began to grow overpopulated and feelings of discontent ran through the settlers who had come here under my lead. A small group of them left one day, proclaiming that they would find a home in the human settlement with the large walls we saw on the other side of the river. I tried to locate them, and I saw an old, moldy collapsed house against a stone wall. I didn't know what to make of it.

By this time, I was old. Not too old for physical activities that other meatbugs did, but I was getting on in my age all the same. I was the most respected 'bug in the land, and even though I had declined the offer of their official leader, all looked to me for guidance nonetheless. One fateful day in the early morning, I was outside looking at the lake when my trusted advisor, a giant of a meatbug named Minnyn, came over to me.

"Look," he said. "Look across the lake. Do you see them?"

Indeed I did. Across the lake, swarms of small flies were whirling about.

He nodded and said, "One day I saw them kill a young scavenger that had wandered by and drain every last drop of its blood. And just yesterday, a small group flew across the lake and killed two of our young. They have to be taken care of."

I sat silent for a moment. "So few of us remember how to fight," I said. "And they are so very fast. What do you propose we do?"

He looked at me for a full minute before speaking. "According to the other elder bugs I have spoken with, you can talk telepathically with other beings. I think... I think we should make a treaty with the humans in the camp by here."

I was stunned. "You can't be serious." I said in shocked tones.

It was quite a long argument that followed, and I don't have time to write it here. Eventually, we agreed that the whole colony must go, so that we may impress the humans with our numbers. I was to speak with them. Two days later, we left for what the humans have named the New Camp.