How much a year can change

It has been almost a year since my last update, and we have come so far!

After leaving the desert, and traveling back to the coast with Giselle in tow, we set off over the mountain passes once again. This time, however, we headed inland, away from the coast, and over the tallest mountains I've ever seen. There were times I felt as though my chest would burst trying to get enough air just to breathe! And even in mid-summer, the nights were so cold that we needed extra blankets just to be comfortable.

Eventually, we made it to the other side of the pass, and I was stunned with what lay ahead of us. I had no idea that there was so much land! It seemed to stretch out before us forever, and held a wealth of opportunity that we could explore.

After the chill of the mountains, the desert heat was almost unbearable. It took weeks to reach the end of the barren sands, and we were close to death. Our water had run out and our bodies were so tired and painful that we were tempted to give up. We managed to push forward a little more every day, though, until finally we found a lake.

We stayed at the lake for the winter, healing ourselves after the hardships of the desert. When the spring rains stopped, we were ready to continue our search for a safe place to settle in.

We didn't need to go far.

We've discovered a small community called Lost Hollow that suits us quite well. We've settled onto a plot where the animals can graze the day away, and the breeze blows most of the summer heat away.

There are a dozen families here, and a larger community for trading a day's ride south. So far this seems pretty much perfect, and it's good to belong.

Exhaustion

We've spent much of the last month shifting boxes and things. Some things were small, delicate and fragile, others were huge cumbersome beasts that threatened to snap us in half if we so much as breathed wrong.

It was the whole reason for this trek into the desert. A wise man, an elder, passed away and his granddaughter (honestly nobody really knows if they were actually related or not, but that's what she was referred to) decided to become a traveler. The village they lived in had died, and she was practically alone so it made sense. No one knew how old the elder was, but he always claimed his great grandfather was from the time before.

With the amount of stuff in the house, I believe it!

Unfortunately, Giselle, his granddaughter, was too attached to so many of the items. Space and weight is severely limited, even in the biggest of caravans. The house she was in was so packed full of huge solid furniture, and delicate glass ornaments (which wouldn't make it through the first mountain pass), there was no way she could keep it all. It all contained memories for her, though, and parting with her grandfather's prized possessions wasn't easy. There were more tears than I ever care to experience again!

Something happened to us while we were attempting to talk her out of keeping absolutely everything: we fell in love with some of the things, too. I was reminded of my childhood, part of a community, having a place I belonged. True, that community had a tendency to change, but I had my bearings, I always knew where I was in relation to the Earth.

Steve never really had that, nor did he ever desire it, until now. Seeing the massive garden and ranch the old man had may have had something to do with it. We spent the cool desert evenings sitting on the back stoop watching the stars.

We've headed inland to find home. A place to settle in. A place to belong. A community to grow.

Strange

The desert is such a strange place to be.

We were following a particularly flat, straight, utterly lifeless stretch of the trail when we spotted a lake just to our left. We are very aware of how little water we have, and it was very tempting to leave the safety of the well traveled path. Luckily, our water stores are still in good shape, and we have been warned of some of the dangers of the desert. Upon closer examination, the "lake" turned out to be an oasis. It's not hard to see how so many travelers get lost and disappear out here chasing phantom liquid.

The creatures here are equally strange. The other morning, just as the sun was breaking over the horizon, a line of large animals wondered by us, then cut across the desert sand keeping in a single file line. They were similar to our horses, but much larger with shaggy, sandy colored coats. The skin on their backs was soft looking, bunched up like they were born with too much skin and muscle and the excess got piled up there for some reason. And their knees were backwards! It was quite an unusual sight. I don't think I've ever seen anything like them.

Steve called them something as unusual as their appearance, something like catamals. Or something. I think the hardships of the desert are getting to me. The hardships of traveling are finally weighing on me. I've been dwelling a lot on my childhood lately. There's a part of me that wants to settle in a place, be part of a base again. There's so much more to see, though! It's a confusing dilemma.

There's still time to experience things. We have this run to finish, and then... Well, the "and then" will come next I suppose.

A new adventure

We've begun a trek across the desert- it’s a long story. So far, it’s been a bit unsettling. There are so many structures out in the middle of nowhere; this area must have been inhabited at some point. Some of the buildings have obviously been burnt out, others just look like they've been reclaimed by the desert after people abandoned them. Who would want to live in the middle of an arid desert? I wonder if this used to be a lush area that slowly dried up and forced people to leave in search of water and fertile ground.

One thing does bother me quite a bit, though. On all of the buildings, there are strange markings. Sometimes they seem to be layered like too many people had messages to write, and not enough space. It does appear to be language of some sort, but there’s no way for us to decipher it. And it’s in all kinds of colors, too! Pinks and blues, and of course black. Some just look like scribbles, but others truly are works of art. I wonder what the civilization was like that lived here. 

Aches

We've been pushing hard the last few days to reach the township. We've come across n abandoned homestead on the outskirts, which is where we spent the night last. Everyone is tired and sore, but knowing we're so close to the township is helping to push us forward.

The weather has really started warming lately, which is making our clipped pace even more difficult. This morning, though, we awoke to grey, foggy skies. The clouds are hugging the tops of the hills around us, and it's made it quite cool and comfortable. Occasionally, there is a slight rumble overhead, and we keep wondering who, or what, is passing by overhead.

It's why we've been pushing so hard lately. Every day more airships cruise by, east bound. Why? What has happened in the township?

A cup of coffee, and then we'll break camp and head off once more. With any luck, we'll be in the heart of the township in 2 days time.

Rumbles

Yesterday afternoon, 3 airships rumbled by overhead. We're on the side of a mountain that is densely packed with trees, so we weren't spotted. I don't think it would have mattered much, though. We couldn't tell, from our vantage point, if they were Skyrates or Soldiers, but the general consensus is Skyrates.

They were heading East at a clipped pace. Not sure if that's good or bad news for the fate of the township.

The birds are still silent. It's putting me very ill at ease. I miss their songs. I've been leaving out some grains and seeds trying to entice them closer. Thus far, my efforts have been in vain. There are no voices of nature on this mountain. What does that mean?

Ninkeys

I haven't been able to shake off this depression that's consumed me. So, yesterday after we made camp, May, Ian, and I decided to scout the area looking for something to pick the mood up- flowers, berries, nuts, etc. We didn't find anything like that, but something did find us that took a bit of the load off for a bit. A troop of Ninkeys!

They're smallish animals, covered in hair, and very playful and mischievous. They descended on us from the trees overhead, curious about what we were. One in particular took a liking to Ian, and decided to include him in their game of climbing and romping around. May and I settled back to watch, as the Ninkeys were not interested in the two of us. I suspect it's because Ian was so much similar to their size that they found him so intriguing.

And they were loud! Their vocalizations to one another were, at times, so piercing that it felt like my head would split in two! Ian didn't seem bothered by their sharp cries. In fact, he began joining the chorus! Whooping and hollering like a wild man. At first the Ninkeys seemed confused by his mimicry, but then I actually think they enjoyed him trying to be as much a part of their troop as possible.

I don't know how long we sat there. Eventually, the light began to dip low, and the Ninkeys began to drift off, finding someplace to spend the night. So, we returned to camp, too. The heaviness of my mental burden returned with me, much to my dismay. Hopefully I'll be able to leave it behind soon.