Marika, I love you. I wanted to say that while I still have the chance. It feels good to give the words a life outside my heart, even though I'm certain this will never reach you.
We're trapped. The Reachmen came in a flood, out from the mountains. They pillaged the villages and choked off the roads and drove us all back to the only place we might find shelter: Falkreath. We should have kept running, as far as it took—to Solitude if need be—but now it's too late. They've had the city surrounded for weeks.
This city was built to withstand a siege for some time, but there are too many mouths to feed and the Reachmen are relentless. They don't leave us much time to dwell on the hunger, at least.
If I somehow survive this, I will head to
