Dear Sesshomaru,
It's been three years since the well has shut. I have spent them attending college, majoring in Japanese history. Its fascinating. I've made my living as an artist, painting our adventures; trials and triumphs both.
I'm living on my own now. I needed more space for my studio, and for Battosai-he's my dog. The man at the shelter didn't know what he was but said he was about 200 lbs. Solid muscle, white with amber eyes. The moment I saw him I knew.
I'm writing to you because I miss you. It's been so long and I've run out of tears.
I wish I knew where you were buried so I could come see you. But you and my friends have been lost to time.
I found a story that might interest you. I found it going through the wellhouse the other day; once I started reading it I couldn't put it down.
Our story.
Someone had painstakingly put down our story to paper-all correct. There was no mistake. Reading it opened wounds I thought had healed, but I guess they haven't. They say time heals all wounds, but I'm not sure this is something time can fix.
Love,
Kagome