Two events occurred yesterday, one involving the children and the cubs, the other my daughter Jhalhemha. The month-long vacation from school ended on the third, and the next morning four Alharhanian children and two Tereskàdian cubs and their whistling dragons had to face the fact that school was open again, and the vacation routine they had enjoyed had to be put aside. Now they had to go to bed earlier, the two older twins had to make their lunches, they had to find decent clothes to wear, and they had to catch the bus to the University of Treskebhar. Four months of school before the next month-long vacation.

The event that Rhalhea and I had been waiting for finally happened yesterday. Jhalhemha, our third and last daughter, made her appearance, in the morning, and I was glad that no one but me and Rhalhea were there to witness it. The children and the cubs had just left for school, Khe'ăr had gone to the Department of Immigration earlier, and Lheana had gone back to bed where she no doubt dropped off to sleep faster than you can say 'speed of light.'

When she emerged she was in Rhalhea's pouch. One way to tell when a cub is ready to emerge is the rather persistent poking against the opening. Instinctively a cub senses when a year is up, and when it is time to show herself for the first time. So when Rhalhea looked at me as we were lying on the bed, I knew what was going to happen. She widened the opening as far as she could, and this thinly-furred head poked out. The eyes opened and looked at us, and I knew she wouldn't stay out long. I had enough time to see her blunt snout, the black nose, the rudimentary vibrissae that would lengthen as she grew, before she withdrew into Rhalhea's pouch again. I knew that each appearance would grow longer in time and frequency, but for now one brief seconds-long appearance was enough. When she had settled into her pouch again, Rhalhea closed it. We looked at each other, and we both had the same thoughts. A year of in-and-out. We had lived through it with Jhorhea and Rheža, and we were certain this cub would be no different. A Tereskàdianologist once said that if you didn't have any patience, you were not a Tereskàdian.

I looked at my chest teats which confirmed that there was milk in there, just waiting for Jhalhemha. For the next fifteen month, she could choose which pouch she wanted to sleep in, which chest teats she wanted to nurse from. Just as the pouch and the teat therein had been her exclusively property, so it is with our chest teats. They belong to the cub, and she can nurse on them anywhere and anytime she wants to.

When Lheana woke up just before noon we told her the news, and she seemed to be excited, but also a bit aloof, as if to say, That's all we need. Another cub in this house. I realized that she was partially right, because, as the year wears on, Jhalhemha will spend more time outside than inside the pouch, until finally, at the completion of one year, the pouch will not let her enter. She will be two years old then.

Before we get into other items, there is a matter of a whistling dragon cub named Beshalhen. Now I want to make clear a popular misconception: that the emergence of the Tereskàdian and her whistling dragon occurs at the same time. While it can, in some cases, more often than not, the time frame between the two varies, although not to a great degree. Taking Rhalhea and me as an example, Keridhar emerged from his mother's pouch several hours after Rhalhea, and Kykherhenha had been out of Khedharhij's pouch for a short moment before I even poked my head out of my mother's pouch.

Today Jhalhemha is in my pouch. Last night, after the Dhoren family, and the two older cubs had gone to sleep, she emerged from the pouch. Slowly, very slowly, she came out entirely. Although she was covered now with auburn fur that was somewhat sparse, she was still so small, that I was beginning to get the same thoughts that I had when Jhorhea and Rheža emerged: What if I hurt her just by touching her, or trying to hold her? So I didn't.

She crawled up to Rhalhea's chest and found her left teat, and I knew that when she nursed she would always take the left teat first, whether Rhalhea was nursing her, or me. She drank for a while, her eyes closed, took the quickest of nap, before she jerked awake and looked around. It seemed that she was rather confused as to where she was, because she saw these two giant beings with auburn fur, and pointed muzzles, looking down at her.

She crawled over to me, found my belly, nudged at the opening of the pouch. As soon as it was open wide enough, she slipped inside. She stayed there overnight, nursing several times, until she drifted off to sleep.

So that is where she is today. It is mid-morning, and she has not emerged yet. She nursed early this morning, but after that it was quiet again. Cubs are so different you can't really tell what the pattern will be like after they have emerged for the first time. Jhorhea was the adventurous one: as soon as she had made her first appearance, the only time she was in our pouches was at nap time, or during the night. Other than that, she tried to stay out as much as she could, which meant that out chest teats received a good work-out. Rheža, on the other paw, was much shyer, and she spent much of her first year in the pouch as much as she could, and Rhalhea and I had to coax her out numerous times, so she would suck on our chest teats. Once the cub emerges from the pouch, the milk up there starts flowing, and the only one who can relieve the burden is the cub.

Do you know that I have been so preoccupied with Jhalhemha's emergence from the pouches that I forgot to mention two cubs who also had a birthday yesterday. Now ordinarily we Tereskàdians wouldn't make such a big fuss about birthdays, but the Alharhanians view such matters with great pride. There is something about someone becoming one year older, and the event is usually shown with much hugging and kissing, and giving of gifts. I could never figure out why what is otherwise an ordinary day would be viewed in such a manner. But for those who find an interest in this, yesterday, the 4th of Bhe'ăchyzh saw not only Jhalhemha turn one, but Jhorhea turned eleven, and Rheža turned six.

Just now, when I look at these figures, I realize that in four years, a mere four years, Jhorhea will have found a mate, blood-bonded, mated, and given birth to a cub.

In a mere four years Rhalhea and I will be grandparents.

Bhe. 5.99/Day 146

Before I get back to our return trip from the Mestrhadhen Gardens I have to mention that I have finished my autobiography. Rhalhea was rather surprised because she thought I had to do a lot more work on it. I told her that I stopped the narrative with the death of Jhar Morněl because anything that happened after that was rather anti-climactic. Sure there are eight more years to consider (age 17 to 25), but whenever I feel like it I will start another book. I am considering several possibilities, but the one that keeps wanting to be written is another segment of my life, this one about a valuable missing statue called The Praying Bird. I had already written over 50,000 words before I even started the autobiography, but I had set it aside, and hadn't given it much thought. Now that I look back on it, I realize that the events happened soon after Rhalhea, Jhorhea, and I, and our whistling dragons returned from Tereskàdhar. Rhalhea wanted to know why I didn't just add those words to the existing autobiography, but I said that would be over 318,000 words, and that would be a bit much for one book.

All right, back to the return trip before I get off the track again. Speaking of 'off the track', that's exactly where we went. The nice scenic route we took was scenic all right, but the route took you through narrow, winding roads that left you biting your nails(or in my case, claws). It wasn't so bad when there was no traffic, but when another hovercar came from the other side, you had to pull over as far as you could to let it pass.

Lheana looked at the map, and tried to find us a way out of this mess, but she just shook her head and said there was no way off this road until we reached a town called Bindefhar. I leaned forward, and saw her pointing, and I realized we wouldn't be home until well after midnight.

Khe'ăr wondered aloud if he should turn the bus around, and head back to the gardens, and take the most direct route home from there, but Lheana told him he would be crazy to try something like that. I thought they were going to argue, but I guess Khe'ăr realized that she was right. Any attempt to turn this bus around would land it at the bottom of a very steep embankment.

A hovervehicle can only hover so far above the road surface. The first time I had seen a vehicle I thought they could not only skim above a surface, guided by the myriad wire underground, but also fly like a jetliner. When that didn't happen, I asked Khe'ăr about it, and he told me that vehicles had to follow certain rules, such as the distance they could be above the ground. You wouldn't want hovercars and jetliners to compete in the air, would you, he said. I had to agree with that, of course.

So there we were, and the only thing we could do was go forward. Khe'ăr had given instructions to the bus to proceed very slowly, because a new menace appeared up ahead. Curves. Sharp curves. On either side of this narrow road we were on were trees, so it was hard to see if anyone was coming toward us. Hovervehicles are practically silent, so even with our acute hearing we Tereskàdians couldn't tell if another hovercar was approaching.

It happened while the bus was negotiating an extremely sharp curve that also climbed uphill. A hovercar approached us, but instead of trying to move over as far as it could to let us pass, it stayed right in the middle of the road, as if it were some private driveway, and he had every right to it. Khe'ăr ordered the horn to honk 'loud, and long', and as soon as he said that I shut off my hearing.

The hovercar was almost in front of us, when our bus suddenly lurched to the right, and swung halfway to thin air. It compensated immediately by swinging hard to the left, and it crushed into the hovercar. Both vehicles stopped automatically, and it seemed that for a long time, no one wanted to move, or even say anything.

When he had collected his composure, Khe'ăr left the bus to check the damage on the vehicles. The occupant of the hovercar, who turned out to be an Alharhanian female, started yelling at Khe'ăr. She wanted to know what a hoverbus would be doing on a road like this, and why wasn't he driving where he was supposed to drive. Khe'ăr said he didn't know this road was going to get this narrow, but she wouldn’t accept any excuses. She said Khe'ăr would be in a lot of trouble, and, to me, it looked like he was just shrugging it off, as if it were no big deal.

So that is the good and the bad of it. Luckily, both vehicles were still driveable, and we drove home without any further incidents. By the time we reached Brežendra Road the younger twins were fast asleep, and Khe'ăr and Lheana had to carry them inside. Nykha and T'heril walked inside on their own, but I could see they were tired too. Rhalhea gave Jhorhea to me, and she carried a sleeping Rheža inside. Jhorhea was still awake, but she sort of shuffled into the house, mumbling something about going to her room right away... as soon as she took a drink from Khedrhokhazh, she added.

The clock is still telling today's time, but it won't be long before it will be tomorrow. Today is the first day of a new month, and the month long vacation will soon be over. This is the month when Jhalhemha will emerge from the pouch for the first time. When she does it will mark her first birthday; it will also be Rheža's sixth, and Jhorhea's eleventh. Rhalhea and I had carefully planned the conceptions and births of our cubs, all three conceived on 'Hănharys, and all three born on that island. All three true Tereskàdians.

I am writing this in Khe'ăr's office. I am tired like the rest of the family, but I told Rhalhea that I would join her in our room as soon as I have finished this. Kykherhenha is lying beside the desk, and she is showing her teats, a not very subtle hint that I should suck before I go to sleep.

Bhe'ăchyzh 1.99/day 142

It is hard to believe that our last daughter, Jhalhemha, will be emerging from the pouch in seven days. She is in my pouch for two more days, including today, then she will switch over to Rhalhea's pouch for the final stay in either of our pouches. I think she senses that the time is close, because she seems rather restless, and when she nurses, she does so only briefly.

It is almost the end of the month. On the 4th of Bhe'ăchyzh it is back to school for the Dhoren children and my cubs. From what I hear about the weather it should still be rather warm for the next few weeks before autumn hits us with rather chilly temperatures. I don't know how they can predict the weather that far ahead; sometimes I think they have to say anything just so it appears they're doing their job.

All right, let's go back to our trip to the Mestrhadhen Gardens. In my last journal entry I told you about this incident that happened with two Alharhanian boys, one whom pushed Jhorhea, and received a severe scratch for his effort. When the law officers took the father away because he was making threats against us, his family went with him, and after that, there were no more incidents.

Mestrhadhen Gardens is a huge outdoor and indoor complex that features plants from all over Te'hănys. Now, our country is huge, and that is an understatement. It stretches from the cold northern regions where there is snow almost the entire year to south of the equator where they have never heard of snow. So it stands to reason that the plant life would be as varied as the stars in the sky. We saw trees that were tall, and trees that had trunks with a circumference so wide that it took fifty Alharhanians to encircle it. We saw white flowers that grew in the northern part of Te'hănys, and multi-colored flowered that thrived near the equator. We walked for hours, and it seemed that we would only see a small fraction of it. My hind paws were getting sore, but I didn't complain. Kykherhenha knew, of course, and she wanted me to tell Khe'ăr, but I told her there was so much to see.

One particular flower that really fascinated me, and I think Rhalhea and the cubs liked it too, was this rather small plant with many flowers that changed colors as you looked at it, but it seems to do it so subtly that you hardly notice. When we stopped to look at it, some of the flowers were blue, some red, some pink, some yellow, but as you stayed to observe it, the colors changed very gradually. The blue became lighter, the red darker, the pink faded until it was almost white, the yellow burst into a sharper brilliance. And new colors appeared, colors I can't even name. By the time you leave, all the colors have changed completely. I heard an Alharhanian beside me tell her children that the colors never change back to their original color, that the change occurs constantly.

Near the entrance they had a small restaurant where you could get something to eat. Since we Tereskàdians were carnivores the only thing we could eat was meat. You would think by now Alharhanians would know about our dietary restrictions, but no matter where you go, there are always some who think they know better. So it was in this case. When we approached the counter, Khe'ăr ordered first for himself and his family. They had a menu board up behind the order taker, but none of those items interested me or Rhalhea.

When it was our turn I ordered some raw meat but the Alharhanian teen behind the counter said we couldn’t do that. We had to have some grain bread with it. And besides, he said, we can't serve raw meat. Well, that's all fine and good if you're an Alharhanian, I said, but do we look like Alharhanians. So he started to quote the law to me, and I cut him off by asking him if he attended school. Yes, he did. And has he ever studied Tereskàdianology? Yes, of course. I stated again that I would like raw meat. By this time another Alharhanian came over, and wanted to know what was going on. The minute I saw him, I knew Tereskàdians were not among his close friends. Fortunately for us he couldn't do anything, because if he refused to serve us, he would have been taken away by law officers and charged. It is all in the Tereskàdian Act, a legal document that quite a few Alharhanians don’t like, but too bad, it is the law, and it has to be obeyed. The Alharhanians who drafted it, and discussed, and passed it, made sure that it was the strictest document ever, and any deviation from it will only get the perpetrator into trouble with the courts.

The Alharhanian who came up to the counter was the manager of the restaurant, and he had no choice but to serve us what we requested. He told the young Alharhanian to thaw out a slab of tezuelhan meat from the freezer, which he did with such great reluctance that I could smell it on him. When we finally did get our meat, the Dhoren family had almost finished their meal.

It was late afternoon when we finally left the gardens. Khe'ăr asked everyone if they had enjoyed their stay here, and the only one who really grumbled about it was T'heril. Would have been nice if they had an echosing concert here, he muttered. The other children and my cubs found it fascinating, and interesting, and educational, among other descriptions.

Before we started out on our journey back home, Khe'ăr and Lheana looked at the map, and decided that we should take a nice scenic route back. Little did we know that taking that scenic route almost got us all killed.

F'hăr. 28.99/Day 139

Before I continue my narrative about our trip to the Mestrhadhen Gardens I had better mention that my mate Rhalhea celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday on the fourteenth of this month. Of course, when we are talking about Tereskàdians 'celebrate' is very much the wrong word because to us, age is just a number. But that didn't stop the Dhoren family from wishing her a happy birthday, and bringing out an ochăbveŵech roast for which Rhalhea thanked them a little too profusely, in my opinion.

All right, going back to the twelfth, and our trip to the gardens: There was an incident in the parking lot that left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Now you would think that by now even Alharhanian children know enough about us to behave themselves accordingly but it seemed that this one family that got off one of those buses had nothing better to do than come over and harass us. They threw all sorts of epithets at us, but that didn't bother us in the least. It was what happened next that made my blood boil. The two adults had two children with them, both boys. As soon as they touched ground they ran over to Jhorhea and Rheža, and started calling them names. The parents made no objections; rather, they seemed to be pleased with what their children were doing.

The boys danced around my daughters, taunting them. Jhorhea and Rheža could do nothing about that because of what they were. Deep inside I was wishing that they would hit my cubs, but Kykherhenha admonished me for making that wish. I disagreed with her, telling her that these two pests had to be taught a lesson, and if that meant drawing blood, then so be it. No sooner had I sent that message to Kykherhenha then one of the boys hit Jhorhea in the chest and sent her sprawling. Rheža ran over to help her sister, but she was up faster than you can say Alharhan. Her ears were laid back, her tail was flicking, and there was no mistaking the growl that escaped from her throat. Her claws were out, and before the boy could run, she dug them into his arm and tore down. The boy just looked at his profusely bleeding arm and it seemed like it took him an awful long time before he realized what had happened to him.

His mother tended to him, but his father stalked over to us, and yelled at Jhorhea. I told him if he had anything to say, he should say it to me. He made that stupid remark about Jhorhea attacking him without provocation, and I told him to stop showing his stupidity. I said there were dozens of witnesses who saw what happened, and unless they were anti-Tereskàdians and liars, they saw the boy hit Jhorhea, and she was only doing what she was meant to do. The Alharhanian made remarks about paying me back, giving me details of what he was going to do to me. At one point, I thought he was going to attack me, but he thought better of it.

Unfortunately for him, two law officers just happened to be in the vicinity. They weren't even that close, but the man's voice was loud enough to be heard halfway into the gardens. They came over and asked him if he had made a threat against a Tereskàdian. Now I don't know if this Alharhanian was just plain stupid, or he didn't know the Tereskàdian Act, or even if he was displaying his arrogance, but he openly admitted that he had made a threat, and if given the chance, he would carry it out. One of the officers told him that he should thank the Supreme One that it was a cub who scratched his son, or he would be dead now. They told him that he would be taken to the Department of Justice Building where he would be charged with making threats against Tereskàdians. If he is convicted he would be sent to Jhanhekhar for ten years.

Always something, isn't it? It is good to know that most Alharhanians accept us now, but there still seem to be those who think that harassing or attacking us is the normal thing to do. They are living ten, twenty years ago, at a time when we had no rights, when we could be bought or sold, or killed just because someone wanted to kill us. Five years the Tereskàdian Act has been in effect, five years of alleged freedom from persecution for the Tereskàdians.

When the law officers took away the Alharhanian, his wife and children went with him. Before they put them in the special vehicle reserved for transporting prisoners, one of the law officials turned to us and said that we would be contacted about testifying at the trial. He told us not to go anywhere. There goes the trip to Tereskàdhar, I thought, and Kykherhenha asked me when I was thinking of going to Tereskàdhar. As soon as I talk with Rhalhea, I said.

The admission to the gardens didn't cost that much because Tereskàdians were exempt. That was also one of the stipulation placed in the Tereskàdian Act. Apparently Alharhanians were sorry for all the troubles, and all the ills, they had caused us, and were now trying to make amends. So by just being a Tereskàdian we can gain admittance to such places as theaters, zoos, Treskebhar Stadium, amusement parks, and other facilities that depend on admissions to keep them running. Mind you now, not everything is free: if we go to a restaurant, we still have to pay for the food; if we go to a food store, we still have to pay for the groceries.

The Tereskàdian Act states that no Tereskàdian, and no whistling dragon, can be refused admittance to any building or any facility. You do that, and you may find yourself, on the cold, barren planet of Jhanhekhar for one year. There you will be able to reflect on your refusal to obey the Tereskàdian Act.

What am I doing? I'm supposed to be writing about our trip to the Mestrhadhen Gardens, and here I am writing about a lot of other things. O.k., getting back to the trip, once we entered the gardens, and picked up a guide map, we huddled together to plan out a route that would take us to most of the exhibits. Nykha wanted to see the huge Lepodhasten plant, with its blood red flowers, and its broad dark-green leaves. Its height was five times my height, which made me feel somewhat insignificant.

When Lheana asked T'heril what he wanted to see, he just shrugged. I could tell that he wasn't really very interested in plant life, and he was only here because his brother, and two sisters were. But just to appease his parents he mumbled something about seeing the ketevhan flowers, a rather unusual plant that changes color from dark yellow in the morning to bright red at night. Its roots take up so much underground that, according to the guide, the majority of ground in the gardens has ketevhan roots underneath.

Arhen and Fhenha weren't interested in anything specific, they just wanted to walk around and see as much as they can. We have all day, Khe'ăr said. So we decided to start walking.

To be continued.

F'hăr. 23.99/Day 134

Looking back at an entry about nine months ago, I mentioned to Kykherhenha that we would be traveling to Tereskàdhar soon, possibly this summer. Well, the way it looks now, we might have to wait for a few more months, or even till next year before we can make the trip. A journey of that magnitude isn't just a matter of getting on the shuttle to the mothership, and away you go. It involves a lot of planning, and co-ordination with the Spaceport, and the university, and I had done none of those things, so if there was any hope of catching the next flight to our home planet, I had to get my paws on the buttons and start pushing them.

But before we get into the trip we took to the Mestrhadhen Gardens, and a few other chocie items of interest, let me tell you about this letter writer who really knifed into me in a correspondence based on an article I wrote for the Treskebhar Daily News last weekend. I had done a reflective article about my journey from Tereskàdhar to Alharhan, with Rhalhea and Jhorhea, and our whistling dragons, and the more than one hundred cubs that would have been dead now if they had stayed on Tereskàdhar. I wrote about the Alharhanian on board the spaceship that brought us here who murdered a number of the cubs. I also wrote about more cubs that were killed in a hotel we were staying at after we landed, a hotel right here in Treskebhar. I was a witness to these murders, but because the cubs that were killed were not my own, there was nothing I could do, and the killer knew this.

This is what bothered the Alharhanian who wrote the letter in response to my article. To put it mildly, he called me a selfish bastard because I wouldn't help the cubs, and it was my fault that they were killed. But instead of getting snarly, and firing off a response right away, and using language I wouldn't ordinarily dream of using, I waited until I had cooled off before I drafted a response to his letter.

You must remember that I am a Tereskàdian, and not an Alharhanian. So whatever you think, whatever you feel, whatever your genetics or heredity, whatever your background, whatever your social status, none of that applies to me. We are as different as night and day, as different as the birds of the air are from the fish of the ocean. When a Tereskàdian is in trouble, I do not interfere, I cannot interfere, unless that Tereskàdian is one of my offspring. And even then, I can do so only until she is sexually mature, for then nature decides that she will have the poison in her claws, so a parent's assistance is no longer needed.

So why does a Tereskàdian not help a cub in distress, a cub that is not his own. Instinct, pure and simple. While we are intelligent beings, we are also creatures of instinct. We are governed by our genes, and by our heridity that goes back thousands, perhaps millions of years, to some distant ancestor who was the father of us all. Yes, I know standing there and watching a cub die may sound cruel and selfish, but there is nothing that we can do. When I drafted that letter to the Alharhanian, I revised it half a dozen times before I wrote a special article for the Daily News that included both his letter and my reply.

The article appeared in yesterday's paper, and I am waiting to see if there is a response. If there is, I hope he takes the same tone that I have, and refrain from any strong language, or name calling.

Why do Alharhanians want to mold us into their shape? That is something I will never understand. Why do you have fur? Only animals have fur. Why don't you eat something else besides meat? You must be really bored with meat. Why are you still sucking on your whistling dragon's teats? You should have stopped that when you were one… or two… He just called you a dirty, stinking animal. Why don't you do something about it? Oh, you get the picture, don’t you? We want to shape you into our image, we want you to conform to the Alharhanian ways.

Damn it, I can't do that. When are you going to understand that.

Hm, I just realized that my ears are back, and I'm a bit snarly. Let me change the subject to the Mestrhadhen Gardens. The population of Mestradhen is about seventeen thousand Alharhanians (no Tereskàdians here), and if it weren't for the gardens, Mestrhadhen would be forgotten, because it lies a considerable distance from the main highway.

On the eleventh, it rained, so we decided to go the next day, a day that promised plenty of sunshine, but not a lot of humidity which suited us Tereskàdians just fine. So when the bus arrived early in the morning we all piled in, Tereskàdians and Alharhanians at the front, and our whistling dragons in the empty section at the back. Because we didn’t want to have another incident like we did when we took that trip to Frešherod, Khe'ăr decide to hire a completely automated bus. These are still rather rare, so he had to pull a lot of strings to acquire one of those special buses made especially for Tereskàdians and their whistling dragons.

The trip was going to take about two and a half hours, so I took the two books about poetry that I had borrowed so I could attempt to write some poetry, or at least read how the masters made it look so easy. Kykherhenha chuckled in my mind, because she knows my thoughts are as far from poetry as Alharhan is from Tereskàdhar.

To get to the town of Mestrhadhen we took the direct route. Khe'ăr had programmed in the directions to the bus' computer, and told it to drive as quickly as possible, but within legal limits, and despite all that, the journey seemed to drag on. Even when we had left the Treskebhar city limits, and were driving through farm country and small towns and villages, there was nothing much to see except woods, and grassland, and farmland.

The Dhoren children and my cubs seemed to be fascinated by the different animals living on the farms, the most popular, and the best-known one being the tezhuelhan, an animal used both for riding, as well as its milk, which, according to Alharhanians, is the best-tasting liquid next to water. Of course I wouldn't know about that, since the only milk I can drink is manufactured by Kykherhenha.

As we neared Mestrhadhen I noticed the signs pointing to the Mestrhadhen Gardens. I realized that the gardens were some distance away from the town, and the closest we would be coming to town was at the spot where we turned west to get to the gardens.

Even though we arrived pretty early, the parking lot was almost filled, mostly with hovercars, settled on the ground, and about half a dozen buses. Five of them were empty, but the one we looked at as our bus finally came to a stop was spewing out dozens of Alharhanians who looked as if they were lost. They stepped off the bus, and looked around, and talked excitedly with each other. They looked at us, and I began to feel a bit uncomfortable. I hoped there wouldn't be any incident, and just to make sure, I turned back to my family, and listened to Khe'ăr tell us where we would be going and what we would be doing.

Oh, look at this, Rheža has joined me out here on the porch where I had been enjoying a bit of quiet time as I wrote about our trip to the Mestrhadhen Gardens. But she had just come up from the beach, and she is soaking wet. Her tail, that beautiful, long, bushy appendage with which all Tereskàdians are blessed, is anything but. She is dragging it on the ground, and I tell her it's going to get dirty again. So she does her best to lift up her water-heavy tail.

Mestrhadhen Gardens will have to wait until another day.

To be continued.

F'hăr. 21.99/Day 132