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Today was not such a good day in Jahuar. It was mucky and dark, and Nua's head was hurting again. Lethargy consumed him, and it took all his energy to summon a light to chase the evil darkness away, and he barely had the will to do that.

He wasn't hungry at least - a fruit tree had taken care of that - but he was definitely not feeling himself. Jelta was no help - she was staying firmly in his coat, her soft Moracker fur not made for constant rain and moisture. He missed people. He missed Oggie, who he did indeed remember today. Not much else, though. Today was not a day for remembering. Today was a day for sleeping, until the storm passed.

"Ribbit." Nuawahn looked down to see a spitorog.

"Hello." he said to it, his normally shimmering eyes glazed over and dull.

The spitorog looked at him. "Ribbit." it said again.

Nuawahn stirred from his sheltered rock. "You're pretty." he managed, "Your crystal things are all sparkly."

"Ribbit."

Nuawahn frowned, rousing slightly. His own voice helped more than it should - it had been, he thought, too long since he heard an earthling voice. How long had he been wandering the woods? A few days? Weeks? A month? How long ago had the festival been? What had happened between that? Nuawahn didn't know. He didn't remember.

"Are you okay, mister spitorog?" he asked. Why else, indeed, would a creature talk to him so. "Do you need healing mister spitorog?" he asked, holding out a hand, "Or do you need people too?"

"Ribbit." The spitorog turned and hopped away...