The following excerpts are copied from Sand’s Diary. Unlike in the popularly sought after copy of The Travel Log of Sand Ashōran, these excerpts are unedited (mostly) and unabridged (also mostly), taken directly from my diary.

P.S. Please don’t try to go to these places. You will not have a very good time (if you even manage to get there). Just in case, I’ve changed up the names of the locations.

P.P.S. Thank you to those that have purchased this incredibly more expensive copy instead of the edited and polished up one. If you have both in your possession, I must ask you, why would you do this to yourself? Regardless, many thanks to you, dear reader, for supporting my travels. I would’ve eventually got the money somehow (is what I tell myself), but this makes it so much easier. (it doesn’t help that much, but my sister has informed me that I should thank you, so, there you go. Thank you.)

Entry 10

Other than studying and comparing the samwai with Happy, I've been going around, cataloguing the different small islands that serve as homes. I was allowed to be shown on a tour, and counted 51 islands while on it, 37 of which are permanently inhabited and another 6 that are only sometimes lived on. I didn't pry, so I'm not sure if this is because it is a custom of theirs, or because they are just too harsh to live on (or frankly, straight up uninhabitable) during some periods.

All the islands are connected, even the ones that are quite far apart or uninhabited. The ones that are extremely near each other are connected by bridges, like I first noticed while waiting on the ship. Rope bridges are the most popular, although I have also seen a few wooden ones. I’ve also seen a single suspended rope that is used to slide down on. This method is just one-way travel, as the rope goes from the peak of one island to the base of the other, but it seems quite popular.

The other type of 'bridge,' for islands that are more spread apart, involves a cable ferry. There are usually two canoes on either end, for a total of 4, but they have no paddles or oars. Instead, there is a thick rope that runs through what looks like an inverted oar paddle lock (I’m no sailing expert, so excuse my lack of proper terminology), and the boat moves along the rope by pulling on it. This seemed like too much work, especially since it seems quite slow, too. On further inquiry, I found that it's only really used for festivals or official matters, and strangely enough, also for fishing. That last one made me raise an eyebrow but apparently the same rope that connects islands also serves to hold fishing nets. These nets were so effective for catching fish, I'm told, that not only do they only use these nets as their main source of fishing, but they also rotate between them (the nets are detached from the ferry cable when not in use). They said they also had to make larger holes within the nets to make sure that not as many fish were caught on it, for fear of overhunting. Only the largest of fish get trapped now, I'm told. That still seemed like it could overhunt, but they don’t share my concerns.

On the subject of the islands, some of them are just mere columns of rocks sticking out of the sea. Those are the ones with the most spectacular housing layout I've ever seen. Because the columns are so steep, the houses are built on little platforms on the face of the rocks. For the islands that have thicker columns, the homes are dug out inside of the rock. Reminds me a bit of a bird's nest in a tree, except these are several 'nests' and seem much more dangerous. These people are as at ease up high, on a precarious perch, as they are on land or on a boat. I still have to reassure myself, when on a particularly thin column, that the rock is quite stable and won't be pushed over by the waves. (This also makes me glad that Nada's town is on a larger, flatter (and ‘proper’) island. There are messages and different decorations drawn into the rock, too. I find it fascinating.

Because of the thin column, there isn't much space for frivolous decoration to spruce up the place, but the simplistic drawings seem at home, carved right into stone. The base of the columns is especially popular for chalk drawings. Just yesterday I spotted an extremely intricate illustration of someone spearfishing near a beach. The next day it was gone, wiped away by the sea. I think the fleeting nature of that location is what attracts so many to inscribe their hopes and fears -- it only lasts a short time, before the water wipes the slate clean. I'm going to try to make a point of visiting those columns of rocks more often, especially to take a look at what drawings it has to offer that day.

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Entry 11

I finally took Nada up on his offer to show me how he uses Rig for fishing. I thought that Rig would be the one doing the actual fishing, but it was mostly just scaring birds away from the pods of fish, and also alerting Nada to where the fish were. When I asked him about this, he told me that the samwai were more widely used for catching Winged Fish, a type of species that apparently leaps out of the water and uses its wing-like gills to stay suspended in the air for much longer than should have been possible. Due to overhunting, however, (and I suspect migration too, unless the samwai really were as effective as Nada made them out to be) there aren't that many Winged Fish left over in the nearby vicinity, and now the samwai are mainly used to scare birds away, and to aid fishers in finding good locations.

There really seems to be a strong bond between Nada and Rig. I can't lie, it makes me a bit jealous of the relationship I have with Happy. Nada's started asking me about when I plan to release it. While I told him that I'm just waiting to study it a bit more -- and also possibly return it to the Kokuru’s forest defensive layer where I think it sneaked into my water bottle from -- I think that parting is going to be bittersweet. I am running out of ideas of what I still need Happy for, and so the date looms ever closer, alongside the date of my departure. A little over four more weeks and I'm going to be returning. I really can't believe it. I'm becoming so used to the way of life over here!

On another note, Nada has given me more freedom to write about the life in his town, so as of tomorrow I'm going to follow Saylla around. Each person doesn't only have one job that they stick to, day in and day out (in this town, at least, I'm not sure how Nada's leadership compares to the others'). If someone really likes doing something, they can continue doing it and take extra shifts, of course, but no one is permanently forced into one job. It seems like a very nice and freeing philosophy. I hear that Saylla enjoys patrolling, but I'm going to wait until I spend more time with her before speculating on what her favourite assignments are.

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Entry 12

After spending some time with her, I can say that Saylla really, really likes patrolling. She says it's because she feels at peace on the sea, alone except for the other person sailing around with her (I was told they must go out in pairs in two boats, in case something happens). In the three days that I've been trailing her for, we've gone out at sea at least twelve times, the majority of those being patrols, but also some trading and communication with the other islands.

It was slow-going and awkward, at first, but we've both gotten more used to each other and opened up. I recorded the following with her permission:

- Saylla is the daughter of Saynir and Achilla, and she had two younger brothers. One of them still lives with their father on one of the rock columns (she laughed when I told her that I still fear that they're going to tip over and sink, and said that the last time something like that happened was before her parents were born. It was meant reassuringly, I'm sure, but that doesn't really make it better. She laughed again when I said that to her). From what I gathered, the other brother left for the mainland after their mother died and hasn't come back since. I get the impression that he wouldn't be welcomed back, but I don't want to press Shaylla for information, especially because she was so free with it in the first place. I would feel bad taking advantage of that.

- As I found out when she took me to the 'abandoned' islands (she says they are called the Sunken Islets, or Sunkens for short), she is absolutely fearless. This particular one she took me to is where several different contests are held. When they're not holding events, the island is free for everyone to come practice their skills in preparation for the next contest. (These events, I’m told, are a big deal, and they draw huge crowds). The terrain is mostly extremely inhospitable and hard to navigate, with some pits that go all the way to the water, and treacherous slopes that look quite flat, but are actually very rocky and steep. I'm not exaggerating when I say that just one false step could send you tumbling all the way down where you first started.

- Saylla, it turns out, used to compete on here before she dropped out as she got older ("leaving it for the young ones to enjoy," as she said). She only told me of this fact after we got to the peak, then she ran the race trail to the base of the island, blindfolded, while I watched, flabbergasted and terrified that she would fall to her death. I was too paralysed with fear to appreciate the showcase of skill. didn’t realise how much mastery it took until she walked me through a small portion of the trail once she got back. I think she misunderstood the expression of complete awe on my face because she asked me if I wanted her to teach me, but I quickly declined that. Had enough of a scare just watching someone else do it.

- I was also asked to record a memory of her family, a request that I’m more than happy to oblige. (Note, lest that someone think that she can't write. They are all educated and proficient in writing, maths, and several other studies, much more so than people from the mainland. It's just that, coming from such a tiny community where the majority knows everyone else on at least some level, I think that they get lonely and appreciate the chance to talk with strangers. The irony of their dislike of strangers, but like of talking with said strangers, is not lost on me.) Anyways. Here goes:

She starts, "The fondest memory I have of my family is when I watched my parents compete in the partner race on the Sunken -- the one I took you to yesterday." Her voice is normally rich, and strong, but here on the sea, it's quiet and soft, the oars resting over her knees. She runs a hand through the water, creating ripples. I wait for her to gather her thoughts, pencil at the ready for when she continues, not wanting to miss a word. "I waited with my brothers near the top of the peak, with the other families of the competitors. The crowds usually stay at the base of the Sunken, or on boats around the island if the crowd gets too big, which is usually done. The competitor’s loved ones are allowed to wait on the peak, to greet the contestants once they’ve finished the trial,” she explains, then continues. "My mother was already rather sick by this point, but she wanted to compete one final time. Usually she entered into the solo races, or the cliff climbs -- those two were her favourite -- but she wanted my father to join her this time for a partner race. He didn't really have a choice. How could he say no?"

"He wasn't a complete beginner, of course. He was as familiar with the Sunken events as any other person, but he was used to watching the events, or taking it slowly while my mother trained. Oh, how he practiced and trained every day for two months straight after she asked him if he would join her for one final race. He was completely dedicated. Multiple times a day, he ran the tracks he used to see my mother run when she was well enough to run them. Except, those were the solo trails, not the partner one. On the day of the race, they got wrapped around so many times we thought that it would take the whole day and so my brothers and I started yelling directions to help them. This isn't allowed, but they were last anyways, and I think that everyone else wanted to see them succeed. They did make it eventually, coming in last, of course, but they had more fun than all the first-place contestants that I've ever seen. It was incredible, seeing them compete together, doing it for nobody but for themselves."

"They're what inspired in me the passion to run the trails, first for myself, then for my family once I started competing. I started competing because of this memory, hoping to keep it alive within me, and also to remind them of that day," she finishes. She takes her hand out of the water and starts rowing once more, taking us back.

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Entry 13

After spending time with Saylla, and learning everything I could from her, I bounced around from different people (I once was even hosted by people other than the ones from Nada's town! That was quite exciting). I didn't include all the stories they told me in this journal, because I realised after talking with Saylla, that many would enjoy an opportunity to have someone with no ties to them listen to their stories. Not everything I heard was written down -- some just needed to talk, and know that someone was listening and paying attention to what they were saying -- but what I have noted down is in another journal. In some ways, I’m more attached to that journal than my travel logs (and we all know how much I love my travel logs). The stories are little snippets of people's lives, a window into their soul, and they’re very precious to me.

But, because this particular book is my travel journal, which is specifically focused on my travels and different adventures, it is time to return to that. After saying goodbye to Nada and the others, I once again found myself aboard the ship that brought me here, facing off, one again again, with the captain.

I thought -- hoped would be a better word-- that she would forget about returning to the Kokuru forest, but this is not the case. Unfortunately, I still don't entirely have a solution to the problem that the vasii pose, other than dressing up in such a way that there is no skin shown to the air if possible.

Nada assured me that while they can still kill through cloth, they much prefer direct contact with skin. Not sure how assuring that is, but at least it’s something, I guess.

I think that carrying a lot of containers filled with water might also work as a distraction, but I'm not sure how good of an idea that is, because the water will attract the vasii, and the more there are, the more chances that they go for us instead. I've not told the captain this because I am afraid of the risk this poses. I do not think that it is worth it (both trying to push forth deeper into Kokuru, and also this distraction idea). I'm going to try to dissuade the captain one more time tomorrow. If she decides to not take my advice into consideration, then so be it. Perhaps I can use that chance to return Happy back to the wilderness, where it belongs.