Hello again. Today I started looking for my companions.

I didn't find them.

Well, I didn't think I would be so lucky as to find them on the very first day, but I did kind of hope I would.

Realistic expectations are something I like to avoid where possible.

While I did not locate my friends I did search through the three closest islands in my chosen direction.

I have my scrap of tinglewood wrapped around my chest like some kind of fluid wooden vest. It looks kind of dumb, but if for some reason I fall in the water the buoyant wood should pull me to the surface.

Better safe than becoming a drowned and bloated corpse. Thats what I always say.

One thing that is kind of bugging me though, is where did I come from to get here? I flew really freaking high, but there was no sign of any kind of mainland.

So either I as unconcious and adrift for way longer than I thought. Or something.

I have no idea what that or something could be.

It is a little frustrating.

But that frustration melted away in the glorious sensation of wandering new places and seeing new things. In my journeys today I have come to a conclusion.

It is really beautiful here.

The islands are rich with plants and animals.

Strange fish swim through sharp reefs that protect the rare sandy beachs.

Vibrant plumaged birds dart through humid and dark jungles.

Flowers in all manner of colors and forms festoon the rare sunny patch beneath the trees.

Giant hairy spiders scuttle busily after food or away from being food.

Some of the plants have teeth, and acid, and strangling vines.

Great sharks cruise the waves, chasing after unseen morsels.

Tattooed and pierced primitive tribes fight, kill, and eat one another.

All in all. Life and death are so layered and mixed amongst the beauty its hard to tell them apart.

I saw a pretty and delicate flower, beautiful soft pink-purple petals shaped like a star. Shoot pollen into the face of a passing rodent. The little fuzzy thing started sneezing and choking before finally expiring. Tiny delicate green shoots started rising from its nose and eyes.

Life here is vicious, it hits hard, grows fast, and dies young.

I like it!

Still, every time I see something to marvel at I turn to look over my shoulder and share it with my friends.

And every time I get hit with a hammer of melancoly right in the feelings.

Really kind of takes the fun out of wandering when there is nobody to share it with.

Tonight I am camping on a peak. The ocean breezes are cool, so I have a bonfire going, courtesy of a foolish carnivorous tree who got grabby when I was napping under it.

The beacon for tonight is a flock of firey birds, based off of a very loud and annoying flock that woke me up this morning. The sight of thousands of white wings fleeing my wrath filled me with a feeling of wonder. So I am mimicking that spectacle as best I can.

Thousands of bright crimson and yellow birds of fire swirl and dip in the sky overhead. Lighting up the night and hopefully catching the eye of my friends.

It is nice, occasionally something comes out of the brush to try to make a snack of me. Hundreds of dive bombing fire birds make short work of my would be predators.

They are much quieter than their inspiration too.

So overall just better than the originals. They don't poop either.

Tomorrow is another day. Best get to sleep so I can make the most of it.

Goodnight.