The rain has come. The fall temperature had dropped to an almost pleasant 36 degrees, and then the clouds opened and the thermometer shot back up to 39. It's like taking a hot shower, in the mud. I'm outside anyway. The hab is unbearably stuffy, and working through my research program is incredibly tedious. There's a stack of messages I haven't returned, including one from Noriko that I'm dreading. It feels better to be slogging through the mud than being mired in the constant babble required to be a human.
I've made my way to the overlook -- a clear spot in the forest partway down the north ridge just above the settlement. With a scope I can observe the Tanzen directly. I want to build a blind here so I can just watch them. Somehow staring at monitors isn't the same; I'm always searching the archives or programming a statistical analysis, never just looking at what they do. It was amazing in the first few months of the expedition. I want to get back to that.
The Tanzen ignore the rain. They don't do any crafts that might get wet, but they go about their regular foraging and cooking mostly unfazed. The larger pups play inscrutable games. At least I think it's a kind of play. They sit or stand in circles, then they all move left or right suddenly. They move their hands, each one moving them differently, but all oddly in a similar manner. Then they jump up and move to a different spot to do it again. They also pick out an adult and sit and stare at them, sometimes stock still, other times twitching and touching each other.
Shell's pup Sen is still too young to join his older cousins. Shell's dorsal pouch has dried up and mostly healed, but he still clings to her back like a pack. She ignores him, and he peers over her shoulder intently. Occasionally she'll push a strip of the root she's flaying towards him, and he'll consume it slowly like a long strand of spaghetti.
It's starting to get dark; I'll have to head back soon. The rain has let up unfortunately, so the mud that worked itself deeply into my pants won't be washed out anytime soon. It'll be a long, filthy hike, and worth every moment of it.
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