January 11, 1863. My beloved Ann. I've seen horrors while I've been on this dog but none like I saw today. On patrol with a tick, a large pair of fingers came down and attempted to pinch me.
I managed to jump free only for the fingers to try and pinch me again. He pinched me very hard but I waited and jumped free when he checked between his finger and thumb to see if I were dead.
Sadly, the tick didn't make it out so easily and was burned by some sharp object that was heated up. Obviously this was some kind of ambush performed by a calculated killer. Pray for my return. Larry.
