Summer Growing, Weeder’s Day 14, Year of the Lion number 427; July 13, 1738 Agathon
It has rained relentlessly the last three days. The road is pure mud and the moods are just as dark as the clouds in the skies. The owlbear meat is long gone and the fish aren’t biting, leaving us with soggy, formerly dried rations. I think the mud we’re trudging through tastes better.
Alani and I haven’t been able to practice, and for the duration, I haven’t been in the mood to record these events for a while. I considered my promise to write about the other travelers in our group, but with their mood just as sour as the rest, I’m not comfortable asking questions to learn more about them.
Oh, if we could just have sunshine for a day or two!
Today we arrived at a small lake fed by the Angwell river we’ve been following. The lake, however, drains in two directions. To the west, the Angwell river continues and eventually drains into the ocean at Wailee, Juivestea. To the south, it flows into Lake Cleesmi. From there, the water travels through a swamp, another lake, and eventually to the sea.
By the lake is a clearing other travelers have used to rest. In fact, as we arrived, a small caravan was there. Two wagons, several horses, and something our caravan lacks: children. Two boys and a girl rushed through the rain and mud to greet us as we approached. Our guards remained vigilant, but I perceived no threat.
When they saw me they were astonished. Apparently, they’d never seen a Tabaxi before. I talked to them, let them touch my fur and even showed them my claws. The two couples that led the other group were heading east toward Wardenswolf. Lena let them know the condition of the road ahead for them, and they did the same for us. Rain. More of the same. Mud, mud, and more mud. They mentioned that a small bridge was washed out and it took them most of a day to forge the flooded creek.
We had a little success fishing in the lake and enjoyed something different for dinner, which we shared with the other travelers. Under the canopy of a wagon, Alani played a few songs and spun a couple tales. I wanted to get up and dance but there was no practical way. The children thought it was cute how my tail twitched to the rhythm of the music. I wasn’t even aware of it!
In the morning, we’ll move on, despite the weather. I hear distant thunder rumbling as I write these words. It’s time to turn in for the night.
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