This is a note found on a lectern inside a building in Lower Crossing.
Autumn fogs are appearing early this year but traffic remains unusually high. There is a steady flow of small craft coming down from Malmouth and other townships to the Nor'East. Some of these boats are barely afloat, burdened with what looks like people's every possession. These travelers, sometimes entire families, bring with them strange tales of wars and the unnatural. Bunch'a hogwash riling up the soft townsfolk. Can't complain tho', keeps the dock busy. Most are Westbound, trying to get as far away as they can.
The lads at the docks are starting to lose their nerve. Some have talked about setting out West themselves but I've assured them this is all nonsense and will pass. Youth are easily caught up in the energy of the moment.