Fallen

I believe that Cana is right. My views are no longer in line with those of the Tribe. I cling too strongly to the ways of old, to tradition and honor for those around me. Am I a perfect man? Certainly not. I'm a fallible man, like all the rest. People have only to look at the last few days of my madness for the perfect example of that.

But I can not view what's taken place as everyone else. I cannot just shrug my shoulders and say oh well, all is forgiven. Come back to the fold and nothing else will happen to you. I don't expect this for myself, why should I extend it to others?

I grew up with a people who were fierce and full of pride. Who cherished tradition and their tribe. Not those who spit on the ways that once made the Tuchuks strong. Feared. Once they were. Now? I could not imagine so. I could not image the Turian's feeling any fear in their hearts at mention of the Tuchuks now.

So that begs the question of where do I belong now? I have no place among the shadows I see surrounding me now. As I stand looking at my wagons, I find myself drawing to a conclusion. The answer so obvious that I should have seen it sooner.

My place has moved elsewhere, and I must find it again.

With that final thought, I set aside these pages. For how long? I can't say.