The Irvingly expedition has unfortunately left me ill on the first day. We were ambushed by a swarm of mosquitoes whihc has left me experiencing advanced symptoms of malaria—at least that's what the healers here say. I'm not sure they know what all of this is given the magical nature of all that's going on here.
I will return to work at the first opportunity I get, and until then will be documenting what I see and hear here with the hopes that it proves useful to your research. Perhaps some good might come from this mess.
I'm glad to hear you're not dead, though. Let me know if you need us to mail you anything. Also do take notes on absolutely anything creature-related; the fog seems to be bending the rules of our reality, and I'm very curious about it.
The illness has not progressed as well as I'd hoped—my fevers will not relent and the cold sweats are beginning to drive me mad! I've taken some time to ask around about your request, and have found that there are some patients being treated from the expedition whose experience with magical creatures in the past week outshines mosquitoes.
My former boss from the hospital is here—I'll see if he has any knowledge he'd be willing to share.
They say rest is what's best, but I hardly believe it. The longer I wait around to get better, the worse I feel; I'd feel much better knowing I was doing something, even if it was pestering the other injured expedition-goers!
It seems Mr. Langley hasn't had encounters with magical creatures, but I'm positive I heard something about a crocodile. Irvingly doesn't have crocodiles, does it? Not even at their zoos.
Irvingly shouldn't have crocodiles but it is starting to sound as if the fog has disrupted the ecosystem more than we thought previously likely. Probably a good thing there aren't Hebrideans that far south; our creatures do not take well to the heat.
Immie says hello back to you! I have enclosed some cookies; she had no part in baking them but did enlist the cook. Isobel is also asking after you, although truth be told I think she is after the cookies.
From what I've heard, to say the fog's disrupted the ecosystem is an understatement. It almost seems like the fog is sentient in some ways; it knows your fears and it knows where you're going. Part of me wishes I could get back out there to study it without being limited by the movements of my group. The other part feels like never coming back to Irvingly again. I know one thing: I'm stuck here until the expedition is over.
Tell little Isobel not to fret; Miss Bella will bake her a fresh tray of cookies once she's back!
That's particularly intriguing. If I really wanted to do an experiment I'd bring one of the dragons down there, but we all know how much they like travel; and I don't think they would like the odd weather, besides. How is the Infirmary running? Have you heard anything from my brother?
Considering what I've heard concerning the nature of the fog, I would think it unwise to bring dragons to the area. I've got this very odd feeling that there's something greater going on than a mere magical mishap; it seems too intentional. I have not heard anything from Mr. Kentigern, but rest assured that my analysis during the train ride here led me to the conclusion that he is one of the most capable of the bunch.
Neither than I. You should have seen some of the expedition-goers: cripples, debutantes, elderly people. I'm surprised the Ministry didn't have a screening process to sift through their applicants!
I daresay these scones might have finally cured me of malaria—I'm feeling better already!
The fog cleared around noontime and the healers have cleared me to return home. I should arrive sometime after dinnertime at the latest; the authorities are wanting to question everyone from the expedition, and I would like to wait for Kentigern to finish before returning.