I'm couldn't find any stationary, so that letter to my mother is going to have to wait. Fortunately I ran into the innkeeper on my way back to my room. I mentioned my parchment problem to her and she said she should have some spare scrolls in her personal quarters. She wished me a happy birthday and said she might have something else to give me as a gift. Quite thoughtful of her, if I do say so myself. . . wait. . . how does she know it's my birthday. . . That snooping trollop read my journal! Why of all the-
Addendum: She brought me the stationary she promised, along with food and drink for us to share. She finds my concern for my mother, as well as my mixed feelings over the Earth ponies mud-dwellers, to be endearing. I'm not quite sure how to feel about her. She's so brash and unapologetic, but I can see something in her eyes that intrigues me. A thirst for sensory information. She seems to take in everything she looks at so deeply. And oddly enough, I find my self looking at her quite deeply. Her lavender hair, her deep plum mane, her eyes a purplish pink. I take back what I said about Rain being a trollop. Though she is still a snoop.
Note: Rain is the innkeeper's name. I doubt I'll forget it.