Don't despair - the once-distressed damsel is now dandy and recovering rapidly. However...I suppose I should tell the tale. It is not a long one or a dramatic one, but it is true to the trials I trudged through yesterday.
Upon arrival in the city I made sure I had a home in which to lodge once I had rescued the Star. After a quick period of rest and recuperation, I strode stoutly into the trees. It did not take long to become lost. Of course I had to become lost; how can you search if your target is not lost? And how can you imagine how lost the target is if you yourself are not lost? No matter; as I was saying...
After a time, Rocinante picked up a trail. We rushed like we had never rushed before, and came to a dark clearing. The despicable devil, Cheshire, stood, staring, still. He was so deep in his work that he did not hear the whistling of my bolt as it dashed towards him, nor the clinking of my lance as it came down on his thorny crown. (Speaking of which, his hat had hopped off his head sometime during the battle. The Star is keeping it locked up.) He turned, and no longer was there a smile on his wicked cara. But before he could retaliate, Rocinante roared and ran at him. Her gnashing jaws and whirling claws scared him off, methinks. He disappeared, slowly, as if evaporating. The last thing to go was his smile, his evil grin.
Kathleen Schrödinger, the Star, the most marvelous of well-wishers, was there. Curled up into a ball on the ground, whimpering, crying dry tears.
She is injured, my allies. She has lost the smallest digit on her left hand, and her cara is bloody and beaten. Her left ankle, as well, is twisted and hurt. But no worries! She is, as I have said, recovering rapidly. No doubt she will be singing again soon.
I will stay with her a time, but I am a roamer. I must return to my roving sooner or later.