Mother told me I got to practice writing. She said Wood Elves need to do better at writing things down. She says paper is made of trees, but this diary isn’t made from our trees, so I can use it.
Today we ate a lot of jerky for lunch and Father let me drink one sip of his Rotmeth. It tastes bad! One day I want to go with Father and hunt the deer with him. He says I can go soon because I am getting good at using my bow.
There are a lot of High Elves in the town now. One little boy called me a bug-biter! I told him he was a dungpile and then took his toy boat when he wasn’t looking. Father was trying not to laugh. I didn’t try!
