I woke up this turn and left the Hollowed Tree, only to find that spring had crept up on me. When did that happen? Last I knew I was smashing in treasure boxes wearing my scarf. But this morning I came outside and smelled the grass on the wind and knew it was here.

I haven't left the tree much. Not in recent turns. Haven't had much to leave for. And, suppose it is my way that I often stumble and find myself lost down here. I haven't even been writing or anything - which is decidedly not like me. Though, I still have been reading, and watching, and feeding. Still feed the gremlins. And strange enough, when I think about it, in their own way they feed me too.

Think I'd be awful lonely if it weren't for those smelly little chaps. There are a few new pups been born in the nesting area. Have you ever seen a baby Gremlin? They look like grubby little potatoes. Of course, they're too little to be much entertainment at the moment. I prefer them when they get up a bit, and they get a bit of personality about them. For now they just sleep and suckle. Sometimes they cry, and that's a strange sound. I thought a bird had gotten in the first time I heard it.

So, as I was saying, I haven't been out much. Last time I ventured out, I had a bit of a wrestle with Liam. Perfectly natural behaviour! In my work, I have observed that all young male humanoids partake in wrestling. So, I was only doing what came natural to us boys. Suppose I just wanted to scramble about with something and expend some energy after being cooped up in the tree for so long. Suppose I just wanted to push back against something. Suppose I might've just wanted to be near to a fellow human... It was all in vain, anyway. Liam is bigger than me, and I was thoroughly thrashed. He's a rogue now, too. How the ruddy heck did that happen?

Suppose it happened like everything else; I was down in my hole, and I missed it. I missed all of the Nexus carry on too. Though, that was entirely deliberate on my part. I would've been as much use as a chocolate teapot. People kept talking about having great focus and all of that. Suppose I knew my strengths, and that I possessed none of them. The fighting didn't bother me any. I've fought today, and I'll fight tomorrow; and every turn that shall follow. Think I was born for that.

Draekyn and I fought rather a lot when he was back. He scolded me for wearing pyjamas in Ryndall. Berated me for my lack of bathing and self care. We even fought over him advancing in his training beyond me. I liked it. Though, I don't think he did as much. Think he took it to heart, and found it tiresome. I found it thrilling; thrilling that someone cared enough to get so irrate with me. Suppose that's what it always was for me with him. I don't think anybody else has ever cared for me the way he did. I doubt if they ever will again. I don't think I'm built for love. Nobody loves me anymore.

Draekyn is gone, and nobody loves me. He disapproved of my tattoo's. But, he was going to permit me to mark his hand with one alike my own. The star. So then, we might've both been alike and the same. Nobody loves me, and I am certain that nobody will ever get bonded to me. But, I might've marked Draekyn's hand so that we'd have been twin stars. Though, that is all gone now.

I didn't mean to write about all of that, but it just came out. I wonder if my penchant for crossed-words only intensified with Johan. I haven't seen him in a long while, either. Though, I doubt that he has missed me at all - or even thought of me, for that matter.

But, anyway! For this turn I plan to look in on the potato babies some more. Then, I am going to walk down to the beach and whistle into the Sea Dweller cave. I had this thought, you see, that I wondered if the Dwellers have ever heard how humans whistle. So, I suppose I shall see! I will report back presently. Good turn!

My original journal was called Tallying. It was a tally chart, embellished with vague notes to begin with. But the longer I kept it, it grew and grew.

It began as a way to record my fights with Zev. I tallied them off. Each of his outbursts. Each time he was unreasonable. Though now, looking back...

Upon reflection. It was me. It was me all along. I was passing the book. Worming my way out of it. Not taking responsibility. It was me. It was my tally chart of my outbursts. Mine. My own. Nobody else's. And I admit to it now. The journal is lost and the tally is missing. But, I, Mister Bifrost Janger, do hereby claim that naughty list as my own. My name is at the top. Circled and underlined thrice.

Misdemeanours. Offences. Delinquency. Misdeeds. BAD BEHAVIOUR. RUDENESS. Impulsive. Petulant. LACK OF DISCIPLINE.

IT READS LIKE MY SCHOOL REPORT FROM LALELDAN VILLAGE!

Twenty four Winter's and I still refuse to grow up.

But, for all of my deficiencies, the one virtue I manage to cling onto is my complete and utter inability to lie. I am honest - to a fault. A large fault. Huge. Some people say that they cannot lie because their face or eyes give them away. For me it is face, eyes, hands, mouth, shoulders... It is my body. My being. My tongue. My brain. My heart.

I cannot lie. It screams forth from my pit and my pores. I write it across the sky. Mood lightening.

So, I thought I'd start my chart again. Though, no falsehoods this time - this tally is mine.

I had rather a spectacular outburst yesterturn. Even by my standards. I had already resolved to throw the music box to the bottom of the Well. But I didn't get that far. No. Everyone sent up their lanterns and then they started up their own boxes. And the symphony rose up around me; a discombobulation of mocking chimes nipping at my ears. Unfortunately I have the emotional regulatory skills of a toddler. So, I snatched my own music box out of my pack, raised it high above my head, and brought it crashing down onto the cobbles.

I smashed it. I smashed it into a thousand pieces. And just to be sure of the fact that it was indeed dead, I stamped upon it's ruinous body. Irreparable. It will never sing again. I made sure of it.

I would start the tally at One. But for the magnitude of my tantrum I'll scale it up to a four. I wouldn't make it higher because I didn't yell or cry or anything like that.

And then, I will also factor in the other outbursts/compulsions I have had of late. So... Seven?

No. No, in fact. Eight.

Actually, scratch that. Might as well round it up to a nice round ten.

Ten. We shall start the count at ten.

Excellent turn. A complete success.

Falx has been tasked with creating a portal to the Hollows. None of know how - means, technology, you know... I had the idea of breaking open one of the cracked pillars so we could see what's going on inside. Because it's already broken, you know? It can't really be even more broken than it already is...

I gave it a good wallop with my shovel. But I didn't get any joy. Lavender sang to it. Zarock tickled it with a quill and subsequently melted. Bris shown up but was nothing more than a pretty beard. We were getting nowhere.

So anyhow, I thought I'd go searching about the Hollowed Tree. See what knowledge the Gremlins have squirreled away on the matter. They were Golden Age Engineers. Despite what other naysayers might say.

I find this one intelligent-looking chap up in the workshop (bright eyes). So I offer him a trade; a nice sandwich for anything he has on pillars, portals or symbols.

He dug about and brought me a nibbled old Tome of Fall Festival!!!

What a sweet and clever chap. I hope that all of his Gremlin dreams come true.

Great success of a turn.

Oh. So shiny and fresh. Newness. I mean, I am quite sick of new journals. I liked my old one. How many blumming journals does one lad need? Well, in my case, evidently the answer is five.

One old. One new. Three for Humanoidology (for now). Oh! And then this is my other new one. So six. Six journals for Bif.

Seven when I start following Centaurs.

Anyway, apologies, Newest Journal, if my handwriting is sloppy. But Zibathia still has my spectacles. I'm 95% towards my next advancement. And still, I've done bot all. It would likely only take me the best part of an afternoon as well. But I really do dislike training. I bleed very easily. I wasn't made to be beaten.

No thank you.