The head physician sits at his desk; he is writing his journal as he does when he is unable to sleep. The surface of the ink shimmers in the lamp light as he dips his pen in to it, stirring the deep blackness as his thoughts and memories stir in his mind.
"The excavation and rebuilding of Klima continues. The terrible sandstorm that almost destroyed us is a memory. A few people were lost. Others have returned from the past. Still more have found their way to our home."
Nidge sits in quiet contemplation for a moment. He end of the pen plays along his lower lip as he is lost on his thoughts. Grateful that his boy was unharmed. Grateful that the Home Stone was recovered. Grateful he still has a home with the people he cares for more than he ever shows. Nidge adjusts his posture in the chair; it is basic and not the most comfortable but it is his. His eyes wander almost sightlessly around his possessions.
"My life seems to be an endless round of slave exams and completing scrolls. At least I have not had to perform skin grafts or jaw surgery since he recovered from the sandstorm as was the case when we were visited daily by one attacker. There have been threats from a number of outlaw groups but nothing has transpired from any of them...save for a few flags and some bosk dung. Quite why anyone would haul a bag of dung hundreds of pasangs just to leave it littered around Klima is beyond me. Perhaps some people should consider their motives and actions before carrying them out. At least when I made the journey to their home to return the favour, there were bosk in the lands so the dung was fresh."
Nidge closes the journal, puts down the pen and settles back in the hard, uncomfortable chair. He smiles softly to himself.
