Dr. Birch,,

Ireland had the king with the false arm, correct? Replaced once with iron and once with flesh. I was hoping that the expedition would lead there. I suspect that some form of werewrightwork was involved there, and I’m fascinated by how it manifests in other mythologies and traditions. The whole of it can’t be held only in your Torah and my Pentateuch.

On my end, I believe I am being hunted. I was assaulted by a circus strongman some days ago with intent to kill; I only narrowly managed to overpower him. As the attention of law enforcement would prove troublesome for the rest of the plan, I didn’t turn him in, nor did I kill him. I borrowed one of my father’s mad ideas and simply…erased his prejudice from his mind, along with any compromising memories. I’ve done touch-ups before but never anything this extensive. He might be fine if confused. He might be permanently incapable of higher thought. I dragged him out to an empty field and covered him in alcohol so his absence might be explained by drunkenness; I don’t know what I’ve wrought.

What I do know is that the circus that brought him is filled with sympathizers to the robes and wands of the South. I could read the dendrite weave of his mind, and his affinity for the Confederacy runs through the whole fabric of his thought. This man was a slave hunter and a murderer of freedmen, and he was hired because of that. I was visited by another from that circus the day before I was attacked. This circus was never supposed to be here - it was forced off-course by some husk of the war - and yet it lingers weeks later, as fewer and fewer come to the shows. They are waiting for something. They keep coming to Henshaw whenever they need supplies when there are two other equidistant towns. There are shadows moving outside my window at night.

I am scared. Do not tell this to my father, but I am. He grabbed me by the throat and squeezed, with no warning, no change in his quiet, surly demeanor. Every time Henshaw has come against me, there was a moment of remorse or guilt. It loathes my presence but fears how much it might cost them to get rid of me; it knows on some level that arson and lynching is sinful behavior; it would like to think it has a soul that can be scarred in such a way. This man didn’t hesitate for a moment.

I shall have to stop them, one way or the other. I am not close enough yet to simply run. I was gifted a frog as payment for my first treatment; I’ve been using it as a test subject for some more theoretical work than what’s needed for the plan; I remain a student of the practice even now. I’ll have to build on that to defend myself. Allies will be harder to come by. The townsfolk no longer sneer at me whenever I come within a stone’s throw, but that’s a far way from defending me from Confederate remnants. The Macys might, but the Mayor’s loyalty to the Union will have him summon the marshals for help, and Geraldine…did I tell you I took his daughter as an apprentice? You might have heard from Francois’s end of the operation; I’m sure my parents are in communication with each other somehow. She more than anyone in this town is my ally, which is why I hesitate to throw her into the line of fire. I suppose I’m becoming my mother; she always played favorites and where did that lead her?

I will not die in this place, not before I am done here. Whatever must be done to make that true will be done. Do ask the giant about the arms.