In the summer evenings, after the TrueDay or FalseDay's work was complete and all chore were finished, villagers gather around the CovenantPlace. Lighting a fire fueled with dried platypus droppings, your people would while away much of the evening telling stories, passing on news and rumors, relating times past and times to come, and singing.

Much was learned by a child more willing to sit quietly and listen than play chase in and out of the fire cast shadows.

What we know now, is not what we knew then. In the days past when we lived across the GreatSea in Home, just as our lives were unregulated by the constraints of the BoneTalkers, so were our lands.

Here we have come to expect the ThreeDay: that rain which falls for one hour in the time between TrueDay and TrueNight, every third day. But, in the old lands, the rain was unpredictable. Falling at the whim of the gods. Sometimes, the rains would fall hard and long, because of the forgetfulness of the gods––houses would be carried away like carracs in LittleTwig Stream. Fields would be like the slip of potters clay.

The water would congregate in great bowls of great breadth; not like our platypus ponds, but tens or hundreds of times that size. A few were even so large that a man with good eyes could not see the land on the far side of the water. The ocean which we crossed to HiveLands was even larger. It was to these great bodies of water what they are to our platypus corrals.The sight of these great ponds was a joy, for all manner of animals lived there and coracles could voyage across its surface, visiting villagers on the far side.

Truly, too, did the air temperature have changability like that of a FurKeeper. Sometimes it had a warmth of a furnace and other times a chill like that of Eastern Ridge Range Mountains. You have seen from here the limning of the Eastern Ridge Range Mountains in whiteness. This whiteness is the frigid tears of the Moon Goddess that visits realms where the gods allow a bitterness to root. In the ages past, this bitterness rooted frequently. And this bitterness burnt our people like fire, withering where it grasped long the warm flesh. Now we are blessed that this bitterness only roots where our people do not dwell.

Too, this bitterness caused a war between the Moon Goddess and the Lady Sun, such that the Sun Goddess would wrestle against the Moon Goddess, letting her heat strike into the heart of the bitterness, burning it away. Soon, as heat defeats cold, light defeated bitterness. But in her fury, sometimes the Lady Sun would over step herself and in her victory, burn the lands with her heat and scorch the earth with her light. Trees would shrivel like twigs thrown into a roaring fire. Thirst would lie like a think, course blanket over the lands, as her heat would create a fear that warned the rains off. Now we are blessed that this fury does not lie where our people dwell, but in far places like the Great Desolate.

You children who sit around the fire are spoiled by the benevolence of the gods, with whom our ancestors finally reached a concord. Even in the greatest depths of the CoolTime, it is counted a marvel for the water troughs to produce the clear skin. Even in the depths of the WarmTime, the 3-Day always comes, and our fields our refreshed. A peace has been made between the Moon and Lady Sun. Each has been given her own realm, where her will is law. But here our ancestors contracted them to a peace.