81st Turn, Seventh Year, Twenty-Second Cycle, Byrday
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From the Journal of Aframos Longjourney, Pilgrim

With notes by Avos Torr, Scholar of Rheve Library

Byrday, Twenty-second Cycle, Seventh Year, 81st Turn

Seventieth Day in the Trees

I am almost entirely female now. I do not think I will grow any more. My hips are wide enough to pass eggs. My scales are the color of bronze. My insides no longer feel wrong. Different, but not unsettled as they did. I feel more balanced than I have since I began this journey. I do not know if I will make it home, but I will survive.

We came to another river as we walked today.

It was wide, and moved slowly. There were fish in the water, which we considered catching for our dinner. In the end, we decided it would be better to seek our dinner elsewhere. We didn't want to eat something that lived so close to the bridge nearby. Bridges should not be made from bones.

The bones were of all different sizes. Some seemed to come from creatures larger than myself, others seemed to come from fieldmice. There were a number of skulls set in it. They formed an arched bridge over the water. Most were solidly connected by some unknown grey material. Others were tied to the bridge by some sort of string or twine, and swung in the breeze1. We did not venture too close. Instead, we swam to the other side.

We walked quickly away from the bridge. I do not wish to think about the sort of people who would make such a bridge. I hope we do not meet them.

At least we saw a more pleasant sight this afternoon. We were in the sort of forest with little underbrush, but many plants growing in the hollows of the trees. I saw a moving flash of color, and saw a bird light on a branch not too far from me. It was beautiful, with blue and green feathers, and a long, colorful tail2. It stared back at me for a moment, and then it was gone.

Such a strange forest.

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