This journal is now retired! The new one is at kusani.

"What is that?"

The grey-furred Nila looked up, no expression crossing his flattened face. Yellow eyes sought the origin of the inquisitive voice, but the forest greenery was thick and concealing. He drew his brows low to express disapproval. "It is a drum," he answered flatly, four-fingered hands stilled on the wooden carving. He had been binding the head of the drum, made of Leasheas hide, to the mouth.

"What's a ... drum?" the voice asked, carefully pronouncing the new word. "What's it do?"

( 'A drum is this. It makes noise.' )