Before we delve deeper into the trio’s journey, O would like to pause for a moment to explain a few things.
The distant Realm of Aomry, where the young friends have newly arrived, shares many similarities with the human world, yet differs from it in countless ways. There are concepts among the ownan that human language struggles to fully express; the reverse is true as well.
For instance, on one occasion, O happened upon the scibe, contentedly munching on a peach as he worked. Curious, O asked what it tasted like. And the poor O’s friend, despite his earnest efforts, could not help one such as O, who had never tasted an apple, to fully understand.
The Realm of Aomry is, for the most part, vastly different from your own. Where there are similarities in form, the scibe will at times borrow familiar terms, such as trees, grass, mushrooms, fish, birds, beasts, and insects, to ease your reading and imagination.
For creatures, objects, or concepts that admit of no such substitution, he will instead use the syllables of the ownan, transliterated into human speech. As you well know, there are countless things in this world that mere language can never fully convey.
Fortunately for O, the scibe also possesses some skill in sketching the images he envisions as the tale is told. From time to time, you may come upon his illustrated pages scattered among these leaves.
And now, let us return to O’s tale.
~~~
The trio stood at the heart of the vast Puroot of an Oawgiboni.
Ownan sat in circles all around them. One ring at a time, they began to rise, from the outermost inward. Three among them stepped forward.
The one in the middle spread his arms wide like wings, then drew them in and pressed both palms firmly to his chest. His voice rang out, warm yet solemn with authority.
‘OaaLakqua ~ You henans have arrived in the realm of Aomry. I, Voznugaid, honor the valor of your youths. In time, you shall come to cherish this beauteous land. Open your hearts, and dwell in harmony with us and with all kind, as brethren.’
The ownan who spoke introduced himself as an agud’Aga, chieftain of the ownan warriors. The two beside him were agud’A, his subordinates, named Krutas and Skichip. Voznugaid and Skichip were taller and more robust than Krutas, the scales beneath their chins far more numerous and elongated.
Katuo quietly studied the ownan’s appearance. She noticed that their voices issued from a cleft in the lower jaw. Beneath the chin hung a fringe of scales, varied in shape, some long, some short, present in some and absent in others.
Their faces shared certain features: delicately elongated and ivory-white, speckled with pale brown spots of varying sizes that followed the folds of the skin. Faint reddish scales, soft and thin, covered their heads more densely than beneath their chins. Most striking of all was the third eye at the center of their foreheads—the Trueye. The two larger eyes below were more expressive and blinked more frequently.
Another ownan accompanied him, gentle and graceful in manner. Katuo guessed she was female.
When she beheld them, her eyes widened and glowed with a cheerful red hue, and soft folds rippled from her chin to the crown of her head. Her serene presence stilled the unrest in their hearts.
‘OaaDoroa ~ Greetings, dear henans! Pray for your peace. Call me Lyndorin. A long journey has surely wearied you and left you hungry. We shall head to the nearby K’houko Tribe to rest and share a meal,’ said the ownan named Lyndorin, her voice warm and gentle, like a mother soothing a child.
Krutas called over four creatures known as g’loors and mounted one himself. He and Lyndorin then helped each of the three onto a gloor’s back. Once they were securely seated, the g’loors lower red antennae curled around their calves, while the upper pair floated freely, ready to be grasped.
With a powerful sweep of their tails, the g’loors sprang heavenward. These creatures bore no wings along their sides. Instead, they glided by means of rows of flat limbs beating in measured rhythm beneath their bodies. Their long tails, usually folded neat and close, now flared wide, riding the currents of the wind.
Lyndorin flew beside them. A strange wing unfurled from her back.
“QUOA!” Hudyn couldn’t restrain himself. He shouted again and again. “Incredible! Look at the islands! Look at the flying lands—beyond imagination!”
High above, in the boundless firmament, the three gazed in awe at the majestic and wondrous sights surrounding them. Lands as small as isles and as vast as continents drifted aloft amid the heavens.
The ownan called their world Aoringinas, where they and myriad other beings dwelled. In their tongue, the name meant “The Three Blessed Stones.”
Aoringinas is but one of countless Arins within the Realm of Aomry. The ownan gave this world the name Aoringinas, just as they call the land of the henan the Roundland.
The lands, archipelagos, and islands the trio beheld drifting through the skies belonged to Ao’Mahgar, one of the three Grandcrystals of Aoringinas. The other two are Ao’Hanoorat and Ao’Tuatiweh. Each of these great domains bears its own distinct qualities of form, nature, season, and life.
This realm has no sun to light it, nor any division between day and night. Yet from an island on the fringes of Aoringinas, one might gaze upon a sable firmament, where countless stars gleam, and each is a distant Arin. The radiance of each Arin springs from vast crystalline formations of its own, suffused with ethereal power.
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At Aoringinas itself, the solid foundations of its lands and islands are formed of rugged crystal, trailing like long roots that descend into the void. Interspersed among these are clusters that bloom into spheres, jagged lines, spirals, and a host of other diverse forms.
~~~
The g’loors brought the young friends to a sparse forest called Agariri. Once everyone had descended to the ground, Lyndorin approached the three, her gaze resting on each of them in turn, and then she spoke.
'Surely you all need new Yoonan-barks to feel more comfortable.'
Lyndorin extended her hand, and three white seeds drifted forth, hovering before their chests. Katuo stared more closely, and only then did she notice the four tiny wings sprouting from each egg-shaped body.
The lives of the ownan, especially those of their warriors, were deeply bound to this vital and wondrous form of life. They were called Yooni seeds.
‘OaaUkori~akiho~alago~quaow,’ Lyndorin chanted, her reddish-brown Trueye widening as it filled with light.
The Yooni seeds stirred and sprouted, releasing countless delicate white strands. They grew long and wove together into soft sheaths that wrapped the three, while the torn clothes were peeled away. The ownan called these living threads Yoonan.
‘I hope you all like these Yoonan-barks,’ Lyndorin said, a faint squint in her eyes.
“Oh! These garments feel ever so soft and pleasant. I’m truly grateful. I was afraid I’d have nothing proper to wear here,” Katuo exclaimed with joy. She no longer felt the need to shy away or shield herself before the others.
“My thanks, Lyndorin…” Ramii said timidly. “Might I entreat your help once more? I need something with which to cut my long hair.”
“At a time like this, you still worry over your hair? I’m starving to death! I’m fair enough already and have no need for further primping.”
Hudyn was still lamenting his hunger when Krutas returned with a bundle of succulent fruits. Without hesitation, Hudyn snatched one and took a hearty bite.
“Oh, it’s divine!” he blurted after the first mouthful. “Not even old Rono’s orchard could compare… Ah! I nearly forgot to thank our kindly Krutas here. I’ll never forget this hunger-saving deed!”
While the three devoured the fruits, Lyndorin went off to find a sharp crystal knife for them. Naturally, she did not know what “hair” was, but she quickly grasped the idea after Ramii’s explanation. Her face lit with delight as she set to trimming each lock of the henan’s hair.
Though it was her first time doing such a thing, Lyndorin proved surprisingly deft, with a keen and careful eye.
Hudyn had insisted at first that he had no need of it, yet he was the first to volunteer. One after the other, Hudyn and then Ramii ended up with neater hair. To Katuo, they seemed unchanged, save for a handspan of added height.
“Oh, are you singing?” Katuo listened with pleasure as Lyndorin trimmed her hair and crooned. “The song has a certain mystery to it. I don’t quite understand it, but it makes me feel so peaceful.”
‘OaaRudidi ~ It is a song of thanks for the small things,’ Lyndorin replied. ‘All ownan cherish song and dance. If you wish, I shall teach you in time.’
Lyndorin let Katuo’s hair fall just past her shoulders, deeming the length well suited to her. Her slender face and delicate nose bridge blended gracefully with the chestnut locks. Only her eyebrows—partly straight, partly arched—stood in subtle contrast to her otherwise gentle features. Newly shorn, the softly wavy hair lent her the guise of a comely maiden.
Ramii and Hudyn, after a stunned pause, suddenly whooped like a pair of simians, prompting Katuo to frown in annoyance. Though her two friends showered her hair with praise, Lyndorin ended up cropping it short to the nape, as Katuo wished. Katuo felt far more at ease with the boyish cut of old, heedless of the rueful looks cast by those two simians.
‘You are all quite endearing, and such marvelous heads you have,’ Lyndorin remarked, after the young ones thanked her for their new hair.
~~~
Thereafter, Lyndorin led them to a herd of great creatures crawling slowly among the sparse trees. They resembled giant snails, with rows of leaves upon their shells. From her Yoonan-bark she drew three handfuls of red earth, wrapped in dried leaves.
‘OaaDoara ~ Like the henan, the ownan too require a dwelling place. Feed them this red earth, and you will earn the trust of these p’mopos. They shall provide you a shelter. Mind you, be ever kind, true, and heartfelt in your approach,’ Lyndorin counseled solemnly.
“Per-pop-po, pop-po, per-mop-bo,” Ramii laughed. “What kind of creature has a name like that? My tongue’s getting tied just trying to say it.”
“Feeding these worms, huh? I thought it would be something hard. Turns out it’s child’s play.” Hudyn curled his lip.
And so, the two boys eagerly chased after the p’mopos. They tried every coaxing word and tender trick, but each creature merely turned tail and scampered off. While they toiled—scurrying here and there in vain pursuit—Katuo lingered behind, observing without haste.
“Well? Will you eat or won’t you?” Hudyn snapped, only to have a p’moopo to spout muddy water straight into his face.
“Khh! Khh!” He spat and scrubbed at his face. “Fine then—don’t eat. Must you treat me so? You look mild enough, yet you’re as finicky as any maiden!”
Only then did Katuo step toward a clear patch of earth free of wild grass. She sat down gently and placed the parcel of red earth before her. Scarcely had a moment passed when a tea-colored p’mopo approached. It extended its snout and lapped up the red earth. Katuo smiled, softly stroking the creature’s trunk. The leaves along the p’mopo’s flanks quivered. The two broad flaps afore parted and revealed an opening just wide enough for a person to crawl inside.
The p’mopo have dwelt in symbiosis with the ownan folk since primordial times. Their limbs, which are lined with numerous clinging spines, enable them to traverse rugged terrain, even scaling the slopes of hills and mountains. These creatures savor soils rich in crystalline minerals, particularly red-hued earth. They offer the ownan a haven, dry through the rains, sheltered from the winds, and warm in winter. In turn, the ownan guide them to lands abundant in crystals. After digesting the raw soil, the p’mopo excrete a rich and fertile mud, fostering verdant growth across the land.
Katuo tried squeezing into the small opening of the p’mopo. Inside, it was hollow, suffused with the faint fragrance of tree sap. She could peer outside through oval openings along its body, each covered by a pliant lid that opened or closed at the slightest touch, or even a breath. Near the p’mopo’s tail lay a chrysalis chamber, warm and inviting, a perfect place to curl up and sleep.
As for Hudyn and Ramii, both were nearly helpless, unable to coax even a single p’mopo. Only with Katuo’s help did they, after much travail, manage to earn a docile one to share as their dwelling.
“Why does it have to be a purple pop-po? And two big lads living happily in a little home, no less…” Hudyn grumbled as he reluctantly clambered inside.
‘OaaRudidi ~ Be gentle with these p’mopos, sweet ones. Keep them bright and clean, and treat them with care. If you love them, they will be obedient. But should you treat them ill or neglect them… they may find ways to cast you out. ~ Arinikha,’ Lyndorin reminded them before she left and let them rest.
As soon as they slipped into the soft, snug chambers, they drifted into a peaceful slumber. Meanwhile, their two newfound homes were led by Lyndorin toward the K’houko Tribe, where they would dwell among the company of domesticated p’mopos.
~~~
