81st Turn, Seventh Year, Fifteenth Cycle, Rokday, Evening
rating: +26+x

Previous Entry

From the Journal of Aframos Longjourney, Pilgrim

With notes by Avos Torr, Scholar of Rheve Library

Rokday, 15th Cycle, Seventh Year, 81st Turn

Evening, Thirteenth Day in the Trees

The weather cooled considerably today. It was not cold, but nor was it very warm. It changed very abruptly. And when it did, so too did the trees.

They are tall and twisted, like all trees I have seen in this place. But unlike all other trees I have seen, they do not have leaves. They have long green needles. Occasionally, I see what looks like a pineapple made from wood peeking out of a cluster of these needles. Their bark looks gray and leprous1.

We are camped in a copse by the path. Souja is sporting with small furry animals that run up and down the trees. They have grey fur and bushy tails2. So far, they have eluded her. Occasionally, one will scold her from a perch in the branches above.

I did see one larger animal today. It was something like the horses the Dijaro ride, but was more slender and gracile. Its fur was brown, lighter on its underside. It had two horns on its head, but the strangest horns I had ever seen. They split into many smaller points, like tree branches. I half expected to see leaves sprouting from it3. Unfortunately, before I could get a better look at it, the wind shifted, and it caught our scent. With a leap, it bounded away into the underbrush. I wish I could have seen more of it, for it truly was a beautiful animal.

After I made camp, I studied the book further. There are occasional words I can make out, but frustratingly little. What is any of it supposed to mean? Why was it left in our campsite? There must have been a reason. If it was simply rubbish being thrown away, then there are surely better ways to do so than sneaking into a stranger's camp like a thief.

Frustrated by the book, I examined the beads further. So far as I am able to tell, they are nothing more than a decoration. The rattle seems no different than a conlin's toy, save for the feathers tied to it. What makes them so important?

Perhaps I am simply reading too much into it. Perhaps it was someone's idea of a joke, or a strange sort of charity. I suppose with my robes in such disrepair, I must look like a beggar. Still, I find it unsettling that they were left without my knowledge.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License