Through a Cat’s Eyes – 7.3

Autumn Harvest, Pickers’s Day 18, Year of the Lion number 427; August 26, 1738 Agathon

We’re still a few days away from Casozali, but we’ve been doing shows almost every night since my last journal entry. Alani insists that each night we do something different, even if it’s just a minor change.

The other thing is we don’t always have control over the venue or its condition. Tonight, during the second act, I hit a damp patch where someone had spilled their ale and twisted my ankle slightly. I made it through the rest of the performance, but it was painful.

Afterwards, Lena wrapped my leg in some cloth and told me to stay off it for a while. Then Alani came to my room with a dwarf wearing a dark brown robe and a purple mantle. At first, I thought the dwarf was a man until she spoke up. “I bring you greetings from the temple of Freya,” she said as she gently touched my leg. Instantly, the pain was gone. Alani handed the cleric a small pouch of coin as she left. “Freya thanks you for your donation. It is our privilege to serve.”

Noting my astonishment, Alani explained, “Among certain dwarf communities, facial hair symbolizes maturity, station, and status. Females and males alike grow their beards in accordance with this custom. While the various humanoid races share a lot of common traits, there are just as many distinctions and differences. Not just in appearance, but customs and practices. Just as your kind is different, so are we. I caution you to not judge anyone you meet based on your culture or, for that matter, the cultures you’ve witnessed in your travels so far.”

I know I have a lot to learn. The world is large. Countless people are part of countless communities, which are part of many countries. Perhaps I should make it my life’s mission to visit them all and record my observations in my journal. I look up through the window in this little room, in a little tavern, in a little settlement, and see the stars. I see the familiar patterns. Looking out to the west, over the sea, I see the eight stars that make up the constellation Chaser; the great wolf who always chases the sun, but never catches it. I think about how many people like me are looking up at the same group of stars right now. Each person is unique, with their own story to tell.


Previous: Through a Cat’s Eyes – 7.2

Next: Through a Cat’s Eyes – 7.4

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