It has been seventeen days since I last wrote anything in my journal. I have not even looked at it because I have been too busy remembering life in the village where I grew up. This village had been so alive just twenty years ago, even ten years ago, before Jhar Morněl and his gang of murderers walked through the village, but now it was deserted, devoid of life and laughter, devoid of any character whatsoever.

Rheža wanted to know where everybody was, and what could I tell her? They were all dead, all of them, except for the one hundred or so cubs that managed to find new life on Alharhan. Rheža began to cry, so I picked her up and held her in my arms. She looked at me, and we communicated via our whistling dragons. She told me I could have been killed in that village, and then everything would have changed. No Jhorhea, no Rheža, no Jhalhemha. I asked her why she would be thinking about that when her father had three wonderful daughters who would grow up in a much less hate-filled environment. She said by bringing her and her sisters here I was showing them a past from which there was no escape, even though they themselves were so much more familiar with life on Alharhan now.

Jhorhea is spending a lot of time at the canyon. I am tempted to emulate my father, and forbid her to go there, because she is getting so close to the edge as she looks down at the ribbon of the river. I see her back, her tailtip waving slightly in the cold breeze. I want to call to her, but I just watch her, as she looks to her left and sees the bridge that spans the canyon. It is a much different bridge than the one I had tried to cross when I was a cub. This one is sturdily built, much more solid, and if I had the inclination I would cross it right now, walk across the canyon to the other side, to the caves. I want to ask Jhorhea if she wants to see the caves, but Kykherhenha tells me that she has seen some khobharet on the other side.

Rhalhea killed a jrhameldhan not too long ago, and we have been eating as much of it as we can. The cubs had never tasted jrhameldhan, but as far as they were concerned, meat was meat, and they were hungry. When they were done they thanked their mother, and I noticed that not much of the animal was left. It rather surprised that a family of five, and their whistling dragons, could eat so much. We were all hungrier than I thought, I guess.

Why are we here, on the island of ‘Hănharys, in the village where I was born and lived until Jhar Morněl came to change his destiny? What am I trying to prove by bringing the cubs here? Sure, I want to show them where their parents used to live, but should I make them suffer by making them live my memories? Jhalhemha, being the youngest, does not understand any of this. She is happy when she gets her milk, and when she can sleep in my pouch or Rhalhea’s pouch. Even when she is out, and either me or my mate carries her, she watches her surroundings quietly. Even when Rhalhea and I tell her we used to live here, and this village was once home to many Tereskàdians and whistling dragons, it doesn’t mean anything to her.

The other two cubs understand much more, especially Jhorhea. She knows she and her sisters were conceived on this island, and were born here. She asked if that was important to us, to have her and her sisters born here. Did it really matter? What if we had been born on Alharhan? she asked. Would that have been so bad? I didn’t know how to answer that, other than to say it was her mother’s and my decision to make. We were the parents; we decided when and where the cubs would be conceived and born.

The snow has begun again. The flakes are thick and fluffy, and somehow I know that this snowfall will last a lot longer. We are staying in my old cabin, finishing up what is left of the jrhameldhan. Rheža is playing absently with her tail, trying to catch the tip as it swishes on the floor. Jhorhea has cracked open a bone to get at the marrow, while Jhalhemha is nursing at Rhalhea’s left teat.

When are we going home? Jhorhea suddenly asks. We are home, I tell her, and instantly regret it.

Pešhŏth. 22.489/Day 488

When you remember a place that used to be so alive and vibrant, and then you look at it now, when it is so deserted that wild animals have no fear of walking down the center of the road, there is a sense of emptiness that sweeps through your body. You ask yourself questions. For example, if the other villages that we passed were thriving, why not my village? What had happened here that left this village deserted?

A khobharet was ambling out of one of the home where Bešhelhor, late leader of the village, had lived. It took one look at us before scurrying into the forest. I guess it didn’t want to tangle with an adult Tereskàdian. Right now, I was less concerned with the khobharet than with questions that pervaded my mind. When Rhalhea and I and over one hundred cubs left the village about ten years ago, we left behind the adult Tereskàdians who no longer needed to care for any cubs, such as Bešhelhor and his mate. When Jhar Morněl and his men marched through the village, they killed everyone in it. I know, because I saw the bodies. I am not going to say any more about it because even after all these years, those deaths still affect me whenever I think about them.

Jhar Morněl and his murdering cohorts had gone to the other villages, too, and they had killed as many Tereskàdians as they could find. Many Tereskàdians and whistling dragons hid in the caves on the other side of the canyon, or hid themselves deep in the forests of ‘Hănharys. When I killed Morněl at the canyon, it lifted a great burden from the lives of all Tereskàdians and whistling dragons. Gradually, the villages saw life again, as the Tereskàdians returned to occupy the homes they had deserted during the reign of Jhar Morněl.

But what happened to my village? Why was there no one here?

Jhorhea and Rheža are looking in the houses as we walk past them. Rheža remarks that it stinks, and that doesn’t surprise me, since animals seem to have taken over this village. Even as we approach what used to be Rheôvhan’s home a telhafyn scampers out the door and bounds across the grass without stopping to look what made him take flight. Kykherhenha wants to know if she can catch it but I tell her not to bother.

We enter my former home. Memories hang heavy here, memories of Mama and Papa, of me nursing at their teats, of sleeping on a bare mattress, curled up into a ball with my tail covering my snout, memories of the birth of my brothers Temžărhen and Tez’hărhej, memories of eating jrhameldhan and pha’ŏthar and telhafyn. The past vanishes the moment we live it; we cannot retrieve it, we can never live it again. Oh, yes, you can go back to places you have been, where you were born, where you grew up, where you played with your friends, where you mated, but it is not the same, because those you love are no longer here.

Oh, to be young again. Oh, to go back and change what has happened. Kykherhenha tells me I’m wishing for the impossible, and I say dreams let you do the impossible. Dreams do not bring back the reality, she says.

As I look around the now-bare one-room cabin tears are welling up at the corner of my eyes. Kykherhenha knows this, of course, but she does not tell Keridhar. I have turned my face away from Rhalhea and the cubs, because I don’t want them to see me like this. All I have in my head right now is the past, and it doesn’t want to let go. It clings to me like the vine that was wrapped around my wrist and Rhalhea’s wrist when we blood-bonded some fifteen years ago.

I don’t want to write anymore. The pain of remembering is much too great.

Pešhŏthakhashen 5.489/Day 471

I am writing this journal from the one room cabin where I used to live when I was a cub. Rhalhea and I, and the cubs, and our whistling dragons had taken a jetliner to the coastal town of Bhakeb. Most of the flight was over the ocean, and one of the things the cubs agreed on was that there was a lot of water on Tereskàdhar. I told them that the planet was 95% water, with only two land masses, Mhačăren, where we had come from, and the smaller ‘Hănharys, where we were going.

Before I get back to the present, I must mention two places we visited before we boarded the jetliner to ‘Hănharys: Tereskàdian Hall and the Mayor’s House. The Mayor of Monaran is Bešhech dhar Mhevrhom, and the moment I laid eyes on him I could tell that he had no use for Tereskàdians. Fortunately for us, he couldn’t very well toss us out of the house, because we were part of a tour that was being taken through the building. Furthermore, one of the Alharhanians on that tour was Fhelhomha Leskel, the President’s sister, and a Pro-Tereskàdian. Mayor Mhevrhom knew that too, and all he could do was glare at us, while he tried his best to keep his mind on showing about a dozen Alharhanians where the mayor of Monaran resided, and how he spent his day running the city. I was glad when the tour was over; I had no intention of going into the house again. Ever since Senha Rhuižel’s death, the place has lost all charm and all meaning for me.

Tereskàdian Hall is located on the west end of town. It is a steel and glass building, and I should emphasize the word ‘glass’. When we looked at it from the outside we wondered who had the bright idea to put so much glass in a building. I would have liked it better if they had used some bricks or stone, something that resembled the houses in my village, but then I thought, Tereskàdians had nothing to do with building this structure; it was constructed from a purely Alharhanian point of view.

Inside is the history of the Tereskàdians and the whistling dragons. There are photographs and paintings, and artefacts. There are large plaques that describe certain time periods in the history of Tereskàdhar. Biographies of prominent Tereskàdianologists are prominently displayed, from Chen Arhan Dha’hăbrys to Thyros Mharen. A section devoted to the Pro- and Anti-Tereskàdians draws me closer, and I notice that there is more space devoted to the Anti-Tereskàdians than the Pro-Tereskàdians. That doesn’t really surprise me, because the former have so far, and maybe still do, outnumber the latter.

Rhalhea had wandered off to look at other displays, and she had taken the two older cubs with her. I was carrying Jhalhemha in my arms, and we were looking at a section called ‘How Alharkàdian Children See the Tereskàdians.’ I must say I was rather impressed with the artwork. It was hard to believe that some of the children who drew us and our whistling dragons were six, seven, eight years old.

I heard Rhalhea call me, and then she contacting me via our whistling dragons, telling me to hurry up and take a look at one of the displays. When I came to her side, I saw a display of Jhar Morněl, with pictures of the tyrant when he was a boy, and pictures of him as an adult, with Thalif VIII, as ruler of Tereskàdhar. The last picture was of his gravesite, with its rather surprisingly plain headstone, that bore only his name.

When I looked below this display of pictures, I saw a plaque, and to the right of that plaque a picture of a Tereskàdian. I knew who that Tereskàdian was just by looking at him, but the collar with his name and the name of his whistling dragon confirmed that. But that was not why Rhalhea had called me over there; the reason she wanted me to see this was the word that was printed in large black letters across the picture:
MURDERER.

I just stared at it, but it didn’t affect me at all. If someone wants to call me a murderer because I killed an Alharhanian who attacked me, then there was nothing I could do about it. The first word I thought of when I saw that was ‘Coward’ because here was someone who didn’t have the guts to face me. He could say that word to my face and I couldn’t do anything; he could call me names until he was blue in the face, and I would be powerless to stop him. It is at times like these I wish these Alharhanians would attack me.

So we spend quite a bit of time before we left Tereskàdian Hall and went back to the hotel. The next day we woke up early, had breakfast, drank from our whistling dragons, and groomed ourselves, before heading out to the airport. When we finally boarded the plane we noticed that there were two other Tereskàdians on board. Now, you would think that being a Tereskàdian, and seeing two of my own species on board, I would strike up a conversation, but that was not the case. My family and I were sitting near the front of the plane, and they were sitting close to the back. During the flight we never crossed each others path, and none of us even tried to initiate a conversation via our whistling dragons. We were strangers to them, and they were strangers to us.

The town of Bhakeb is the same town it was when Rhalhea and I were here for Jhalhemha’s conception and birth. We didn’t spend much time here, but we did walk past the home of Vharol M’hŏr, the captain of the ill-fated Pharhaj Měrhas, the ship that took me and Rhalhea, and about a hundred cubs from ‘Hănharys to Mhačăren. I was vaguely thinking of seeing if Captain M’hŏr was still around, but Kykherhenha reminded me that was not why we were on this island.

Unlike ten years ago, when we walked from my village to the town of Bhakeb, now there are vehicles that can take you from Bhakeb to any of the villages in a fraction of the time. The path we had taken through the forest has been widened so that two vehicles can pass each other, with quite a bit of space between them. The vehicle we took was a bus, one that was designed to carry both Tereskàdians and whistling dragons. I was happy to see that the driver was a Pro-Tereskàdian; he kept saying he was sorry that all this had happened to us Tereskàdians, that the Alharhanians should not even be on this planet, but that it was too late to do anything about it. You know what I would like to see, he said. A Tereskàdian president. When he said that, I didn’t think much about it, because politics and Tereskàdians do not mix together very well.

Tereskàdians and whistling dragons lived in the villages that we passed. I noticed that there were a lot of cubs running around, and this pleased me, because if there was one thing we need in the aftermath of Jhar Morněl’s reign of terror it was cubs. If only the Supreme One would grant us the ability to have five, six, even seven cubs, but alas, three is all we are allowed, and five years between them.

As we approached my village I thought of the two times Rhalhea and I had come here, once for Rheža’s conception and birth, and five years later, for Jhalhemha’s. In both cases, we had not come to the village, even though we were not that far away. Both times, we had mated in the late spring, when the snow had just disappeared, and the grass was starting to turn green. We had our secret place, and all we wanted to do was mate, so that twenty days later all three of cubs would be born on Tereskàdhar. But to visit the village during those two times was the furthest thing on our minds. The main reason we avoided the village was the memories, those dark, unpleasant memories.

But now, we were almost there, and there would be no excuse to turn back. I had told my cubs that I would show them where I lived, I would show them the lake where I was born. As the forest ended and the grassland spread out before us I could see the houses not far away. Kykherhenha and Keridhar both flapped their wings and took to the sky. I saw through Kykherhenha’s eyes, and as she flew closer to the houses, I noticed one very disturbing thing.

The village was deserted.

Pešhom. 32.489/Day 465

There are some memories that you want to remember for the rest of your life, and then there are memories that you would like to forget, and sometimes it is the latter that stay with you until you die. Early this morning I was looking at my autobiography and I came to the point where this Tereskàdian-hating Alharhanian murdered twenty-six cubs aboard the spaceship that carried us from Tereskàdhar to Alharhan. The part that made me cry just by reading it was the funeral in deep space for these twenty-six cubs, and for some reason, I couldn’t understand why. I had been there, I had witnessed the funeral and Captain Lhuâdel’s service, and I had shed the tears, but to still be so emotionally involved so many years later… One thing I learned about Alharhanian funerals is that they are somber, very somber. Everything seems to slow down: the walking, the talking, even the music is very, very slow. Those who came to witness the burial in space of all the cubs that had been murdered walked with a sort of shuffling gait to the auditorium where the funeral would be held. They looked straight ahead, silent, reflecting on the event of this day. Not all of them would be attending the funeral, of course; there were those who cheered the deaths of the cubs. I was glad they weren’t here, because if they had been walking down the halls I would have looked them straight in the eyes and asked them if they had a conscience. All the Tereskàdians were seated at the front of the auditorium. As I looked behind me, I noticed that the auditorium was quickly being filled by Alharhanians, and this rather surprised me, because I had thought that only a few Alharhanians would show up. Captain Lhuâdel, dressed now in black, a stark contrast from his regular uniform, walked into the room, and the murmurs and whispers that surrounded us just stopped. Total silence, so total that I checked my hearing to make sure I hadn’t turned it off. I tapped a single claw against the metal armrest of the chair and heard a tiny ‘ting’ that told me my hearing was still functioning. Captain Lhuâdel scanned the crowd, his hands folded in front of him. “It is good to see so many of you here today. Today is a day that will live on in the minds of both Alharhanians and Tereskàdians forever. Whether you like these Tereskàdians and their whistling dragons or whether you hate them does not matter here and now; what matters is that for the first time since this spaceship was officially launched twenty-four years ago, murder was committed within her walls. It is blood that will never be wiped clean, because that blood is in the minds of everyone here, Alharhanian… Tereskàdian… whistling dragon. “When the Supreme One created this universe I am sure he did not create the Tereskàdians to be abused by those who call themselves Alharhanians. We must remember that we are the invaders on Tereskàdhar; the Tereskàdians were there first, so what right do we have to go up there and tell them they don’t belong there. What right do we Alharhanians have to call them animals, just because of their appearance? Do they call us naked… furless… because, for the most part, we are without fur? No. And you know why? Because they have more class in one claw than we have in our entire bodies. “Twenty-six Tereskàdian cubs and twenty-six whistling dragon cubs are lying there in fifty-two coffins. These coffins will soon be jettisoned out into space, and there they will remain for all eternity. I am ashamed… no, I am deeply ashamed that I am a witness to this. I surely hope that one day, one day soon Alharhanians and Tereskàdians will learn to live together, but until that happens, these deaths, and more like them, will be the order of the day. “Now, before the funeral ceremony continues, I would like you to walk up to the coffins, and I want you to look at those cubs before the coffins are closed and locked. And when you do, I want you all to do some deep thinking. I want you to see yourself in the future, and I want you to see these Tereskàdians sitting right here in front of me in the future. And I want you to ask yourself this question: Will the future be the same without the Tereskàdians and the whistling dragons? Some of you here would probably be glad to see the Tereskàdians vanish from the face of their home planet, but that’s not why we are here today. Forget your prejudices, forget your hatred… the Tereskàdians in those coffins were cubs, they were five, six, seven years old, and they had a whole lifetime ahead of them, a lifetime that was wiped out by one insane Alharhanian with a knife. An Alharhanian! What does that make us? I am an Alharhanian, and, like many Alharhanians, I could not even conceive of killing any youngster, whether it is an Alharhanian or a Tereskàdian. Could you? Or you? Or you? Even if you hated the Tereskàdians, could you see yourself killing a cub with a knife? “Before we continue with the funeral could you please get up and view the bodies?” He stopped right there and reached for a glass of water on a small table to his right. The viewing of the bodies took a long time, but I was willing to put up with it. I watched the Alharhanians and their reactions: some of them took a cursory glance, and quickly went back to their seats, a few of them smirked, and I could almost tell what they were thinking. And then there were those who looked, and left with tears in their eyes. Most of them were females, but a few males wiped their eyes surreptitiously with the backs of their hands. “Cubs,” Captain Lhuâdel said when everyone was seated again. “Cubs, cubs, cubs. Tereskàdian cubs… whistling dragon cubs. Did you see them? How did it affect you? It must have affected you because I noticed that some of you were crying. How can anyone here, anyone, believe that what Bheron dhar Kepnhur did was a brave thing? Can anyone here say that to my face… can anyone say that to these Tereskàdians here? If you are so brave, then maybe you should confront an adult Tereskàdian.” He walked to the area where the coffins were lined up. Fifty-two coffins, fifty-two Tereskàdian and whistling dragon cubs who would spend an eternity in outer space. He lowered his head. “To the one who created Alharhan and Tereskàdhar, Orovha, that nurtures us, to the one who created all the stars in the sky, to the one who created the Alharhanians and the Tereskàdians and the whistling dragon, we are forever in your debt. Hear us, oh most Supreme One, as we send the souls of these Tereskàdian and whistling dragon cubs into your care. They have seen but a brief moment of their lives, and these lives have been snuffed out like a candle. May they find solace in your house, oh Supreme One. May we here remember them. May those whose hearts are heavy with hatred be stripped of their burden so that they can see the light, a light that will burn even brighter when the darkness of hatred and prejudice vanishes. “We, Alharhanians and Tereskàdians and whistling dragons, surrender these young bodies to your care.” His hand paused over a large white button. “Take these cubs into your bosom, oh Supreme One, and…” He paused, and I could see that tears were welling up in his eyes. “I would like you all to stand, please.” He waited until everyone in the auditorium had risen. “The Supreme One is the almighty,” he chanted, and everyone in the room repeated the phrase. “The Supreme One is merciful… The Supreme One watches over us… The Supreme One cares for those who care for others… The Supreme One takes those that love under his wing, and punishes the wicked… The Supreme One is forever, the Supreme One is eternity.” Each phrase he spoke was repeated by everyone in the auditorium. He pushed the large white button, and the coffins began to move. Fifty-two coffins, fifty-two bodies, twenty-six Tereskàdians and twenty-six whistling dragons, slowly and inevitably moving toward one of the airlocks, and then into the vastness of space. No one moved, no one left, as the coffins drifted away from the spaceship. I kept watching for a long time, Rhalhea, and my brothers beside me. I was crying, and I didn’t care who saw me. Captain Lhuâdel joined me, and I thanked him for conducting the ceremony. “I want to say it’s my duty, but in this case, I won’t. I think it was much more than that.” Other Alharhanians came over to offer their condolences, and I could see that some of them hated us still, despite what Captain Lhuâdel had said. One of them looked at me, and wanted to say something, but all he managed to do was stutter and mumble. He walked away, turned around and came back. “Look,” he said, “let’s make this clear. I don’t like you… uh, Tereskàdians, but I would not go so far as to kill you. And I certainly would never… never kill any cubs. That is so… so cowardly. Now I know you can tell when somebody is lying or not, so you’ll be able to tell that I’m being totally honest when I say this. And it’s not just me, either. I, and many of the Alharhanians here, offer our condolences on the loss of the Tereskàdian cubs.” I waited for him to say something else, but he just looked at me for what seemed like a long time, and then quickly hurried off. It was late at night before the cubs finally shuffled back to their respective rooms, and before Rhalhea and I settled down for the night. I was so tired I fell asleep immediately. Kykherhenha asked me why I would quote a section of my autobiography, and you know what? I don’t really know. Maybe I wanted to show the cowardice of some Alharhanians; I mean, it doesn’t take a lot of brains, or a lot of strength to kill cubs. Maybe those who hate the adults are frustrated because we have the poison in our claws, and unless they are really stupid, they will not attack us. So they take their frustrations out on the cubs. I’m glad Rhalhea and the cubs are still asleep. I told Kykherhenha not to say anything to Keridhar, and she respected my wishes. I should be fine again in a few minutes. Oh, one more thing before I close this journal entry. I have been keeping a close eye on what I have been writing, and I have just passed the 100,000 word mark. Of course, Kykherhenha wants to know if there is some significance in that, and I tell her that in my case, being a Tereskàdian, I would say there certainly is some significance. Considering that about ten years ago Tereskàdians did not even attend any schools, I would say that it is a remarkable achievement. Here is to the next 100,000 words of Thekherham’s Worlds. Pešhom. 27.489/Day 460

We spent a lot of time sightseeing in Monaran. The zoo, which was a far cry from the one in Treskebhar, has been completely renovated, and now attracts more than a hundred thousand visitors a year, some of them coming from as far away as Alharhan. There are animals here that can be found only on Mhačăren, and a few from ‘Hănharys. A law has been passed that an animal that is native to a certain area cannot be placed in the zoo, if its health and well-being may be in danger. And I guess a lot of animal fall into that category, especially the bird and insect species, because while there are a great number of mammals in the zoo, birds and insects seem to be rather sparse.

Of course when you have three cubs there will be a lot of questions, especially from Jhorhea and Rheža. One of the first questions Jhorhea asked was if Rhalhea and I had eaten any of these animals. We pointed out the jrhameldhan, and the pha’ŏthar and the telhafyn. Like all youngsters, they thought the telhafyn were cute, and I told them if they were hungry, cute won’t appease that hunger. Rheža wanted to know if we were going to catch some animals and eat them when we get to ‘Hănharys, and I told her that we might do some hunting. Now you must remember that while all three of the cubs were conceived and born here, they have no concept of going out and catching their meals. Living in Treskebhar has made them dependent on meat sold in stores, animals already slaughtered and processed. We are so out of touch with the way Tereskàdians should live; we now rely so much on the city of Treskebhar to provide our needs. Now that I think about, I don’t like that at all because it makes us more and more like Alharhanians.

Jhorhea wants to know when we’re going to ‘Hănharys, and I told her that we are booked on a jetliner in two days. In the meantime there will be a few more sights to see in Monaran. Rhalhea wants to see the art museum, and I had my mind set on seeing the Tereskàdian Hall. When we left the zoo after spending hours seeing as many animals as we could, the afternoon had turned into early evening, and my stomach was demanding food. I told Rhalhea that we would go to the art museum, and then get some dinner at a nearby restaurant, and we would go to Tereskàdian Hall tomorrow.

The Monaran Art Museum is relatively small compared to the two in Treskebhar. (I have wondered why there are two art museums in Treskebhar, but then I realized the city is so big it needs two.) Most of the artwork here is by local artists, and all of them are by Alharkàdians. It didn’t surprise me that there weren’t any paintings by Tereskàdians because, as Thyros Mharen once pointed out, Tereskàdians are artistically challenged. We dabble in the written word, but drawing something, anything, is not in our genes.

So we walked and we looked, and we were impressed by the works. Rheža wanted to know if we were supposed to do anything while we were in here, but I told her we were just supposed to look at the paintings. Well, it wasn’t long before both cubs said they were bored, which didn’t really surprise me. There wasn’t really much to do here except look at the paintings and make some comment as to its content or color or… I don’t know. Rhalhea liked the landscape pictures, but didn’t care much for the ones showing flowers and fruits and the inside of houses. Jhorhea liked the portraits of Alharhanians because they all looked different. And then she remarked that sometimes she wishes she could look different from other Tereskàdians. Blue fur, she said, or maybe a pink tip on the tail… We all laughed at that, but she didn’t.

When we had seen as much as we could see at the art museum we decided to go back to the hotel. It was dark when we walked back, and the streets of Monaran were almost deserted. Jhalhemha, who had been asleep in Rhalhea’s arms while we were sightseeing, finally woke up, and looked for a teat. Rhalhea put her on the right one, and she nursed, but for only a short while before she reached out to me. I took her, thinking that she might want to continue nursing, but she just snuggled in my arms.

Back at the Hotel Chădemhal we decided that we would order some food so these cubs could get to sleep. I knew that Jhorhea and Rheža would have no trouble falling asleep, but I was afraid that Jhalhemha was going to stay up. I knew she shouldn’t have slept so long, I said. Put her on your teat a little later, Rhalhea said, and she’ll fall asleep. Maybe, I said.

I ordered raw meat, a large chunk of a jrhameldhan, which the Alharkàdian on the videophone said would be brought up in about half an hour. While we were waiting, we watched the wallscreen. Since the technology on Tereskàdhar is a far cry from that on Alharhan we didn’t have much choice about the programming. The news was local news, and most of it was not the kind that would make you want to sit up and take notice. There was a echosing concert that was about two or three years old on another station. We watched that for only a few minutes before I decided that we could do without the wallscreen.

When the jrhameldhan meat arrived we dug into it like a starving Tereskàdian family. When we were satiated, and had washed down the meal with the milk from our whistling dragons, we put Jhorhea and Rheža to bed. Just as I had thought, Jhalhemha was not very tired, and she spent the rest of the evening talking with Beshalhen, and playing with her tail. I let her have as much time as she wished before I decided that she should retire for the night, so I put her on my left teat and let her nurse as long as she wished. Not long after clamping on she fell asleep.

I am going to stop writing because I am getting tired as well. I have yawned twice in the last few minutes, and Rhalhea tells me to get some sleep. Another busy day tomorrow: first, we will visit Tereskàdian Hall, so the next time, I’ll be writing something about that. We also want to visit the Mayor’s house, because I was there when I was twelve years old, when Senha Rhuižel was mayor. Kykherhenha just told me not to think about that, but how can I put that incident out of my mind? I don’t even know who the mayor is now because both he and Tevren Leskel live in Monaran, but the President is so much more important than the mayor. One rules the entire planet, while the other is merely the head of the city. Maybe we’ll get to talk with the mayor, maybe not, I don’t know.

It is a few minutes before midnight when Rhalhea and I finally decide to go to bed. She falls asleep immediately, but I am lying there, still uncurled, watching my tail sway back and forth. I am thinking about ‘Hănharys, and a series of thoughts float into my head. I am eager, I am apprehensive, I am frightened. I don’t know if I want to be there, and yet, and more importantly, I am doing this for the cubs. They have so much to learn.

Pešhom. 26.489/Day 459