I think this is the closest to black ink I've ever found. It's depressing.
Oracle's paw's better now though! That's something! Or at least it was until we realised we were out of food. So, like always, we went looking for some more.
Unlike always, we couldn't find any. Nothing. Not a scrap! Then we overheard one of those pompus-high-class-loud-mouthed-know-nothings complaining about how 'unsightly beggars are slinking around in thier grubby rags!'
But did we let on that we wanted to roast 'is rear for that little slight? No. We did something better.
Picked his pocket good, clean, and empty.
We don't have to worry about food now!
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You accidentally stumble upon the entrance to what seems to be a large hole hidden in a big rock. After a closer inspection you see signs of someone living here. A heap of rags in the corner that could be a bed, a crack in the wall with bits of food in it, and a small, beat up looking book bound in brown cloth. You bend down to look at it and realise it's a journal. Out of sheer curiosity you begin flicking through the pages, hoping the person who wrote it won't be coming back anytime soon, you can'y help remembering that old saying.... "Curiosity killed the cat."