Ghosts

One thing about hunting people that used to live and work beside you: those fuckers are hard to find.

We spent hours looking, but they stayed ahead of us the entire time. I don't know what their goal is, honestly, because I can't honestly believe our exiles expect to be able to force their way into New Haven. To take this place from us, they'd have to kill every citizen as well as all the people from North Jackson that are still here helping out.

I guess the silver lining to the whole expedition was not being shot at. I remember a time in my life where it would have seemed out of place to consider a good day one where bullets weren't fired.

We're certain the exiles are still out there, but we have no idea where. They're familiar with our search patterns and habits, which is endlessly frustrating. Bah.

They haven't made any other strikes against us, but no one here thinks the shot they took at the supply truck was a one-off attack, either. We're making preparations to deal with an assault, though I can't imagine them being stupid enough to try a frontal assault on our walls. If there's any news on this, I'll let you know. On to other things.

The second wall is coming along well, only slowed down by the need to manage our water supplies. Fortunately it rained like hell yesterday, and we had a lined trench ready to catch it.

Fuck. I just heard gunshots. A lot of them.