2nd AUGUST 2517

Today I went with a group of Skeylans to gather treesap from the forest, we strapped baskets to our backs and used their equipment to tap the trees and fill up our containers.  This treesap appears to be all they eat/drink.

During our otherwise pleasant day of work, something rather disturbing happened.  I was with John and a few other Skeylans, filling up our baskets and as we travelled back, a Skeylan tripped over a rock, cutting his leg in the process.  John seemed highly concerned and I couldn’t see why.  After all, it was only a scratch.

To begin with, I was actually quite interested to see their pale bluish grey ‘blood’, technically the cytoplasm that provided them with their shape.  It then saddened me to learn from John that he was going to die because Skeylans cannot regenerate, once their membrane was broken, there was no way to stop them losing cytoplasm until they no longer had enough to survive.

Sure enough, the Skeylan died.  John seemed sad for a moment but soon took hold of the Skeylan’s bag and returned to the village, leaving him where he fell.  It was on this day, I realised what fragile creatures they really are.