The Journals of Josloy/Hildes 17, 5680

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We reached a point where the river turns noticeably toward the northeast. I doubt this is more than a minor directional fluctuation along a mostly northward course, but in these mountains, it’s rather difficult to be certain of most anything. The land is still rocky and rugged, but home to a number of grasses and small shrubs. With this in mind, we might eat the goat tomorrow since it’s not well suited for traveling far from its natural habitat. It’s too bad we can’t get the lichens anywhere else. Jeny’Ula is a fascinating animal.

Kellon and Hibimage spend their evenings discussing Hibimage’s travels through Etnyben that ended at Habbar thirty-six years ago. I expect Kellon is working on making the story into a book. I know the Council of Adaptive Writing and Publishing pays him well for what he does, but his dedication to the task while far from where anyone would notice is not what I would expect from most people. He collects stories and information on practically any topic, and hopes to one day write books about it all. I have yet to find anyone else who wouldn’t sooner sit back and relax when able.

Alkaar’s arm is mending, although it’s difficult to see any progress at this rate. It still bleeds when we change the bandages, and it’s unlikely he’ll be able to move it anytime soon. At least it isn’t showing signs of infection. With both Niahla’Sen and Tora’Sor paying attention to the wound, I expect it will close much faster than is usually expected for wounds of this severity. Fortunately, Boktoseethet now carries Alkaar’s belongings so the rest of us don’t have to. He calls it learning to be a soldier.

Dawn found an attractive flower today. The petals were pink with a yellow fringe at the tips, and a solid black center. They look very nice in her hair, so she wanted to try bringing some of the plants with us. I told her no. Now, I know anyone who reads this is already thinking I’m an idiot for not letting her bring the flowers. However, I have reasons for saying this. We don’t have any pots, we’re already carrying heavy bundles of supplies, and Dawn looks beautiful no matter what kind of flower she puts in her hair. I explained this to Dawn, and she agreed that the flowers would never survive the journey.


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The Journals of Josloy