Lo Dau! I miss you so much! According to the old calendar you and Dad keep, it should be July 7th, 2777 today.

I am in one of the major cities now! Finally got the chance to write to you.

I am writing and eating at the same time. Sorry, the maizes and stews in the market were something to die for. Oh! And the badass-looking clubs the warriors were carrying! Oh, Great Spirits! I have never seen any weapons that size! And all the cool piercings and haircuts everyone’s rocking… You two old timers have to pay here a visit. How’s home? Are the elders still yelling at each other?

Everything is tradable here! I didn’t know what to get, so I didn’t get anything. Also, I see some merchants selling time in a bottle earlier today. It’s not some old----I mean like an ancient song that dad used to sing----Like actually, a bottle of divine energy from the shrines and all---- a bottle of purchasable time! Two years of life for a bottle of divinity worth 40 years of life? But I don’t know if it was a scam or not tho. Dad used to say: if it’s too good to be true, it’s not true.

Also, I saw some criminals building a temple today, and I heard they were thieves and poachers. Rumor on the street was that one of the bastards killed a pregnant Bison; the Great Spirits gave him a 300-year sentence at the temple. I don’t know to pity that sorry bastard or not, but it’s fair and square. He took 100 years from the mother and 200 years from the unborn cub. Think about that now: when he’s done with his sentence, he’d be almost 500 years old! I can’t imagine how lonely life would be after three centuries of forced labor. No one would remember him; no one would care for him; no one to help him for the rest of his life. Well, if I were a poacher, I would not pick animals with such longevity as my prey. But then I think again, everything either lives too long or too hard to kill in this world, except the underground dwellers.

Anyway, I have talked enough about the criminals. When I was walking on the street without my hood on, everyone would stare at me like they’ve seen a feathered serpent. I later eavesdropped from the half-deaf elders and learned that it was my appearance. Well, blonde hair and blue eyes are rarer than feathered serpents here. Weird, I don’t know to feel flattered or offended. Also, people here speak a million different languages. (that was an exaggeration, and I am just bragging that I can spell exaggeration) Good thing you brought me to the surface when I was an infant so I could telepathically understand everything. Next time I will get you and dad here and translate everything into our language.

I am not supposed to talk about this. But then again, no one understands our language anyway. Hear me out: I overheard the shamans talking about the Great Spirits manifesting into animals and possessing people. The older shamans believed that the spirits had joined us to help the underground dwellers. Some of the younger shamans, on the other hand, thought it was a sign of an all-out war. I hope that the more and more frequent skirmishes won’t put people like us in a tough spot. Both sides would see us as enemies.

In the afternoon, I met another ex-underground-dweller just like me. It was an awkward moment. He was an old and wrinkly, blind man called Saul, and I was older than him. Anyway, he was banished for stealing when he was trying to save his kids at 40; he had only spent ten years up here on the surface, and I am somehow ten years older than him while looking like his grandchild. Gotta thank you and Dad again for bringing me up here when I was still a baby—speaking of you two, how’s your health? And please tell me you are not sneaking out at night and smoking tobacco with the elders.

There are so many new things to explore here! Such a shame tomorrow I am leaving with the ambassadors. I promise I’ll write to you as often as possible on my journey!