This is an exert from a journal I kept during my travels with the trading caravan. It tells of when I lost my way and ran into a family of dawminnos. I also included some of my own sketches that I made while observing them during that time.

Monday

Dawminnos are whimsical little creatures who live in the mountain forests of Iovet. Many a traveler in distress has found them to be quite friendly and resourceful, as I can personally attest to. In fact, it would not be too much to say that my life is indebted to these animals. And as I am far from the reaches of civilization at the moment and have little else to occupy myself with I have decided to compose a journal in order to record their behavior for scientific purpose.

The dawminno belongs to an order of animals called the ametfuga. This is because they possess both bird and mammal-like characteristics and, most importantly because they produce sanansidum. Neither scientist nor magician has been able to unveil the secret of this substance though they have been trying for centuries. It can heal human wounds as if by magic, but dawminnos use it primarily to give them a buoyancy in air akin to that of a fish in water.

Dawminnos are relatively small creatures, ranging size from that of a large dog to a small pony. They spend most of the day propelling themselves through the air with their large back legs and eating insects. Then they return home to a spacious cave or den where they live in small flocks. I would never have thought I would find myself in a dawminno cave but so I did.

Tuesday

I had been traveling across these dangerous mountains in a trading caravan when we were attacked by a flock of griffins (also ametfuga). I dare say the caravan itself got along just fine as they are prepared for such things but it was my first trip through forests and I was stupid enough to run away. Of course, none of the griffins chased me, but I found myself desperately lost with no provisions whatsoever. I wandered around not daring to call for help lest I attract danger instead, nor to eat any of the strange fruits of the forest. By the third day, I had given up hope for survival as I lay down to let starvation take me.

Imagine my surprise when I awoke in a den of dawminnos. It is my understanding that they had been nurturing me with sanansidum which apparently can be expelled through their tears. There were six dawminnos in the flock, two couples a baby one small, but full grown male. I was almost sure that it was this last one who saved me and I dubbed him Oliver.

Wednesday

Even if he wasn’t the one who saved me he certainly is the one who “takes care” of me. While one couple takes care of their baby and the other sits on an egg Oliver looks after me. I can’t say he and extremely gentle father, I have been subsisting on a diet of moths and sanansidum that he stuffs into my mouth. He also enjoys grooming me.

Dawminnos are very clean animals, everyone in the den has been helping potty train the baby, the parents always seem a bit squeamish when they have to clean up an accident. They do so using moss as a type of sponge and mopping up the mess with their hand-like front paws and depositing it outside. The other couple has begun to get very excited, as you can tell from the way their colors are brightening and changing. Dawminnos are not very vocal creatures and I believe that they communicate by changing the colors and patterns of their coats. At any rate, I think that the egg will hatch soon.

Thursday

The newly hatched baby looks much different than the other one. Instead of being a large ball of fluff with oversized ears it looks like a little, wrinkled ball of skin with large bulging eyes. Dawminnos hatch with their eyes closed, almost completely helpless and very ugly. I don’t see much of it, though, it stays in the mother's pouch most of the time. Female dawminnos have a forward facing pouch in which they keep their babies till they are old enough to walk. This allows them not to be encumbered by the infant while they are moving. And that is precisely what many dawminnos seem to be doing.

Friday

I now feel well enough to venture out of the den, and have found that there seem to be a large amount of dawminnos all traveling in the same direction. They don’t quite resemble the dawminnos from my den, however. Most of them are quite a bit smaller and their colors are duller. I suspect they are juveniles, like Oliver.

In fact, Oliver seems to be very eager to join this migration, but the responsibility of caring for me seems to be keeping him from it. He has even begun to mimic my speech, like a parrot and stopped shoving food into my mouth. Now that I am better we spend time together watching the other dawminnos migrate. They look more than ever like a flock of birds migrating to breeding grounds but I remember one of the men in the caravan telling me that dawminnos choose a mate for life.

Saturday

I have just remembered what else the men in the caravan told me. We would be passing by the dawminnos breeding grounds on our way to our destination. Dawminnos may mate for life, but every year there is a new generation travels to a certain area of the mountains to find love. Many merchants take advantage of this location being so close to the trade route to gain a little sanansidum from the by far most docile of the ametfuga family. The thought of hunting these animals now sickens me, but I now have hope to rejoin my caravan and make it home safely. I simply have to leave with Oliver and follow the dawminnos.