For several moons, my pretty one has been avoiding me. She no longer took me on her shoulder, and during her meditation, I was no longer allowed to lie on her lap. Instead, the thick skull of this snoring Aasimar lay there. I wondered what I had done wrong.
In hope that everything would soon return to normal, I always searched for cave crickets during our breaks. But all I found were these weird green things. They seemed more minor, but they made almost the same sounds. Likewise, they were more nimble, alert, and could jump farther. Hopefully, my pretty one will appreciate the effort as well.
Back in the camp, I enjoyed the lute-playing of Sanise. She had found it in the last village on the marketplace and wanted it very much because she always found it too quiet during our rest. I must confess that she could really play it very well. However, she would have to practice a little more on her singing.
After placing the small bag of crickets next to my pretty one and enjoying the brief but grateful fondle from her, I curled up next to her and gazed dreamily into the flames. A short while after, I felt her fingernails gently scratching through my neck, and gallantly stroking my back as she blissfully continued talking to Ykril. They were talking again about that journal that Ykril gave back to her a few days ago. I had noticed it in her bag several times but would not have expected the sentimental value it held for her. It was old, rancid, and the writing in it was barely decipherable. But she always treated it like a treasure. I heard that it was the diary of her father Cadran, which he wrote on his way to the Underdark and the first years after Naldela's birth.
