Trappers is we by the works of hands

[uh oh, guess who else is feeling chatty today?]

It occurs to me that I have never discussed with anyone here who I truly am. Or rather, who I was, in my previous life before all this. I was a queen. A goddess, worshipped by those who saw the true beauty of the natural world and rejected mankind's cruel attempts to tame it with their roads and their cities. I spent so many years of my life fighting to protect my domain as man's progress became ever more frightening and powerful. I killed many people. I deceived many more. Our goal was the destruction of civilization from the inside, and a return to primal darkness for all mankind. There are those who would call us evil -thems that calls themselves Builders and wielded up a hammers against us- but I believe in my heart we were justified.

I gave my life for this cause. There was an evil man who dreamed of ridding the world of all that is good and natural, leaving only the cold and artificial. He was on the verge of succeeding when I made my bid to stop him.

I do not know if I did, but every day I spend in this unnatural place, I cannot help but feel like I failed. I loathe this town with every fiber of my being and I long for the day when I can do to it what I could not in my world.

I believe Mayfield has a word for its enemies: communists. I am... uncertain of what the term means, exactly, but I and they are surely the same thing: enemies of this town and everything it stands for. I do not deny it. In fact, I feel I should shout it from the rooftops. I do not fear this town, for I have faced death. Come for me, manfools, if you dare.

( Narration: in which a nerve is touched )

[100% unfiltered because how do i shot web use telephone right]

Why was this information withheld for so long? For what purpose? Would sharing this poor woman's letter immediately not have benefited all who wish to escape this cage? What else is being hidden away, this very moment?

[She started rather calm, but her voice is slowly rising in volume.]

Are you all content to stumble around aimlessly, to roll over and do as you are told, to forget so easily? It has been weeks since the road to Westport vanished. What have we accomplished with what was found there? Nothing! How are we to do anything, as scattered as we are?

[As she utters the word "scattered" it almost sounds like there are several voices echoing under hers. She seems to have caught that, too, and sighs.]

We are only making it easier for this place to control us.