Cirruin has afforded me another period of being. It’s generally like that, but, one day, it may not be. Could be today, could be in a thousand years. And here, with a new attire like on previous occasions, I consider I should record some things about myself too, so a little bit of what you could call me is preserved, in case Cirruin perishes or forgets about me.

I’ll let you know I consider lion fish to be majestic. That I remain unsure how to feel about jasmines. That, of all the colors I can see, I am fondest of purple and yellow. That my opinion of dogs is. That I am not keen of violence, even if my dreamer is. That I inherited some things worthy of a dragon, even if many would not consider them positive. That I wish. I yearn truly. For what, I hope I can tell you in time.

But know it has to do with the city of Zenvo, to which I returned as soon as I existed again. This time, however, I knew to avoid the guards. I was not aware what those documents they asked for were, I just knew I didn’t have such things. So I manifested myself up the walls as soon as I could see them. And from there, I took another step and I appeared over a tiled roof, somewhere in the city.

Zenvo was capable of containing several Ludluns in its interior, even if I am unsure of how many. One of the main streets bustled with merchants that came and went, even that early in the morning. I descended from the roof carefully, trying not to shift suddenly, as, if one thing had been clarified by my encounter with the guard, it was that the locals weren’t fond of me moving in ways they weren’t capable of.

This one street, despite being connected to one where the merchants could be seen coming and going and peddling and discussing, was relatively quiet. Not a soul in sight.

As soon as I was down the roof and down the small wall next to it, I walked up to a tree and I stared at the leaves. They were so well defined. It’s hard to describe to you, friend, how beautiful a tree covered in morning dew can be when you can see every little detail of it. When the leaves are all similar but different in small ways, when they are properly separated from each other, when a drop of water falling to the ground wets the earth below leaving a small mark. When the patterns on the bark are unique and remain the same between blinks. When the texture is consistent, but not devoid of lumps or little imperfections. Oh, friend, I hope you see trees more than you dream them.

I plucked a long, pink flower from the tree and examined its parts. I had never seen them properly: Cirruin didn’t care for what was inside them, after all. It was a spectacle of stamens, of the pistil. I plucked out a petal, and the flower now had one less petal, and it remained like so. I found it bewildering, exciting.

Eventually, I decided the tree would remain there, and so would its leaves and flowers, and that it was pertinent to investigate the market.

Among so many hurried people, my nature was bound to be better hidden. So I slipped into the mass of buyers and sellers, looking for some other marvel to admire. I found it in the colorful stand of fruits, with is crates, its merchandise, and its owner, a stout man that smelled in a particular way that the locals, I think, didn’t find appealing.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I remained there, frozen in place, admiring the apples. The delicate, ragged motley pattern of their skin. The succession of the dominant red and the subordinate yellow.

After a while, when the clients had cleared from the stand, the man finally addressed me.

“Don’t be shy, ask for something if you want it. I can offer you better prices than the other stands, guaranteed.”

“I am just gazing at the red ones. They look so… peaceful.”

His eyes became a thin line, and he examined me from head to toe. “Foreigner? I know how to speak other tongues, I used to travel my fair share.”

“No, no. I meant what I said. I understand you perfectly, in my hometown we speak your tongue, just a different variety.”

“Dialect, you mean. Weirdo. If you are not going to buy, go away, drunkards drive the actual clients away.”

“Sorry sir. I have money. Is the Ludlunian caske accepted here?”

“The what? No. I only make business in Zenvonian pesi. Go away.”

“I apologize for the unpleasant moment, sir. I shall part now.” I bowed gently and then turned, careful to do it seem natural to the locals. I looked left, then right. I decided I would go to the nearby, yet lonely, park. There were more trees to admire there, and, to my knowledge, the trees were of themselves, and thus nobody had the authority to tell me to stop admiring their beauty. I had seen it from the roof, and the walk there should not be long. Maybe longest or shorter for a dream than for a man, but it didn’t matter. Of resources a dream needs, time is the only limited one.

The park was calm, breeze danced through the blades of grass, so different and full of imperfections they were, now that I could admire them, surreal to me. A ladybug on that blade, a bite from an ant in another, a green glass bottle somebody had dropped resting among them. An animal the likes of a small wolf approached me. As you must suspect, it was a dog, but I did not know dogs back them.

I sat and admired the slobbering puppy. How the saliva dropped down his jowls, how his ears flapped when he turned the head fast enough, and how the animal redirected them in reaction to sounds. And those eyes, so blue, with all the little red veins decorating the white in the few moments it was revealed.

When it started showing his teeth, I slowly stood from my sitting position. I could probably kick the poor thing, I thought. But no. I had no need for self-preservation, its attack would be merely an annoyance. Furthermore, this was no wild beast: it had a piece of resistant, rough cloth around its neck. Someone had given this little wolf a necklace.

Spotting a lady dressed with single-piece, red and green attire occupying a nearby seat. I approached her with haste.

“Pray pardon my intrusion, young lady…”

“I am married,” she stated and stared directly into my eyes before returning her gaze to the little paper in which she was writing with a pencil.

“Pleasured to meet you, Married. I come from a faraway land and…”

She looked at me, now giggling. Above her lip, to the left, there was a little mole. A tiny depression of the skin shaped somewhat like a rhombus rested amidst her right cheek.

“Pardon my manners, I assumed you were trying to flirt with me. Do you need directions?” she offered, and I pointed at the dog that stood his ground a few steps away from me, growling and drooling.

“We don’t have those in my home. How is it called.”

“I am no expert in dog breeds, but I think that’s a local one, the Zenvian Rat Hunter.”

I looked at the dog, then back at her. She was looking at me with an almost sad stare, as if confused by my behavior.

“I mean the small wolf with a necklace.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Sir, have you never seen a dog before?”

“Dog, then. It is a dog, but also hunts rats in here, correct? That’s his role, his… job. Therefore, is it someone’s employee?”

“Sir, a dog’s a dog.”

I began to flicker.

“Ah, it seems our time together is over. Thank you for the lesson on dogs, Kind soul, may we meet again.

And before the last of me disappeared, I could see in her face the same expression as in the guard’s.