Were it not for his attachments on Earth, he would probably spend a lot more time here. Alas, while he supposed some might be able to cut themselves off from whatever lives they had and devote themselves fully to space, Earth was Kerberos’s home, and even if he didn’t love the weather, he loved the place and the people enough that it kept him returning.
He was taking another crack at the Shepherd’s Journal—the more he worked on it, the more it became that in his head, even if it wasn’t going to grant him revelations nearly as exciting as the ones Milo Thatch found. Mostly because he had already discovered the ancient lost civilization, and it was the whole world he sat on. But at least there were certainly still secrets to discover.
As he worked his way through the pages, he had started to find mentions of some sort of summer festival–and Kerberos had to admit, he was intrigued. Inviting people up for the sheep-shearing had been a delight, and the possibility of welcoming more people to show off his world once again was...pretty appealing, if he was honest.
He’d started to gather what he was pretty sure were recipe books and the like, notes on old drinks and food made from local ingredients, and while not everything was available–and he was pretty sure he just wasn’t cut out for certain aspects of the process–he was fairly certain he could guess at Earth equivalents, if he could make his way through a full recipe. It would take a little more work and a little more focus, but he believed in himself and in his ability to figure it the ******** out.
He reached for his coffee–made over ice this time, in deference to the heat, and sighed. The letters were swimming a little, which meant it was probably time for a break; as much as the prospect of slowing down frustrated him, he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he gave himself a headache.
He’d found himself more and more tired of late, but that was probably to be expected. He knew he was pulling long hours between his work and his world, and as much as being on Kerberos refreshed him, there was probably only so much his planet could do.
He marked his place in the journal and shut it, then did the same with his translation notebook, stacking them on top of each other. At least he’d thought to bring snacks; and not just for himself, because some of the wildlife was, as always, curious about a visitor, and his little wisp-fox had settled in to watch, too.
However much effort he put into his world, Kerberos swore it always gave it back a thousandfold. And if he ran himself a little ragged for a while, at least the results would be worth it.
[wc: 542 words]
