We reached the confluence of the three forks of the Upper Cerulean river after a harrowing descent through a narrow, boulder-filled canyon yesterday. Our progress was painstakingly slow. We made our way over rocks, slipping on gravel and slucking through mud, with the cold Upper Cerulean draining out of Lake Inwyn rushing past us as a roaring force of whitewater tearing tree-roots and rocks from the canyon walls. At one point, I lost my footing and tumbled against some granite boulders. My pack opened and a portion of our food supply fell into the river, leaving us with barely enough to make a return journey. We will with have to forage for ourselves more or definitely make a stop at the Carapid Ward, now. My back is stiff this morning and my left ribs are bruised, but I don't think anything is broken. Dashyl remains undaunted by our setback and assures me he will find enough food for us. He is more worried about me, but I have allayed his fears of any major damage to my body.
Last night, as I nursed my wounds and we rested our aching muscles and feet, we witnessed quite a curious display of the local aquatic life. Where the three forks of the Upper Cerulean meet to form one main river is a large pool with different currents roiling the waters as the three fast-flowing rivers collide. We made our camp on the edge of this pool on a large sandbank. With our eyelids heavy and the campfire dying, we began to hear thrashing sounds coming from the pool. At first only a few splashes, then more and more frequently. We got up from our sleeping sacks to see the pool filled with hundreds of river squils. The squils writhed in a massive ball in the middle of the pool, their iridescent skin flashing in the light of the two moons which happened to both be at the apex of their cycles, shinning bright, almost as bright as sunlight. These river squils were smaller than ones found in the lakes of northeast Veratar and measured about the same length and width of one of Dashyl's arms. After some time, the writhing ball of squils began to disperse as they paired up and sunk to the bottom of the pool. I surmise that this is some sort of mating ritual, triggered, perhaps, by both moons being at apex, which occurs only twice a year. We were not prepared for the magical spectacle we witnessed next. Heeding some cue hidden to us, the squils suddenly broke through the surface like threads of light arcing from water to air and back guided by some invisible seamstress, each heading up a different fork that fed the pool. It was as if the river decided to rise up and reverse its course and fly upstream in shimmering streaks of green, yellow and red. The furious exodus from the pool lasted a mere moments and then the water fell still and serene as if the squils had never existed.
Our eyes wide with wonder at what we had just seen, I explained to Dashyl that this could be a mating ritual for this type of squil and they were probably heading up the different forks to give birth. While talking with Dashyl, I had the unsettling sensation of being watched. I didn't want to alert Dashyl, so I didn't say anything, but I am quite sure there was another sentient being spying on us. The Cerulean river is the eastern border of Blue Hollow, where the Akrasa live, a mysterious race of blue-skinned people. I have never encountered one of them, but have not heard any stories of them being hostile to Sarion. Maybe they are just curious. If they make contact, perhaps I can trade some supplies for food or see if they may help locate a starskin carapid. Either way, it is a reminder to be careful as we move further south.
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