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I woke up and ran into Dag, who then ran off to find another: Lacy, I think? The trees can only tell me that 'not having CSS is not an excuse for not having basic identification' and grumbled about it. I have no idea what they mean. I don't take it when they grumble like that very seriously: no, they're the angriest when they aren't rustling, whispering, dropping leaves and pinecones with the weight of thought... We had a bit of play, where we all tried out our silly walks. It's been a while since I moonwalked as competitively as I did back there, head high and footsteps exact as I curved, not daring to look behind me for fear of breaking the effect. There's something marvelous to it -- going back by making the motions of going forward. Haa. Dag seemed quite amused, and as rarely as I see many of my friends -- and as often as I worry if they care for me still, because of that, and how more often I wish I knew how to resummon older, denser times the way you cast a spell, or I pull words loose from my mind and linger my tongue over the ideas like they were pulled teeth -- I was delighted to please him.

Then we all settled to the side and rested in a sunbeam: unlike yesterday, it wasn't an unusual sunbeam. I can't think that the sunbeam itself meant something -- but perhaps it did, and perhaps by sitting in it we blasphemed it. How would we know the difference?
...I guess I am still thinking of yesterday. For all our petty worries and squabbles, there's a nobility to this place, sometimes. And a sadness.