Tomorrow I set upon the road homewards. My last stop was a castle high in the hills. I scaled the ruined tower through a narrow, find crumbling staircase, malady nearly missing a second staircase tucked in an alcove. This led to a great pit adorned by rusted chains, filthy straw, and a beheading block, innumerably scarred. How many rank and decrepit churls met their louse ridden end here? As I meditated such a woeful condition, a mayfly circled. I impulsively lashed out with my fist and caught it midair. I felt it crawling weakly across my palm. There is no mercy for the body, and none in such a place as this. I crushed the fly out of existence.