by Carl van Ostrand
I awoke to the pain in my shoulder. Thankfully Helios had seared the wound shut so I did not lose too much blood, but I still feel woozy, probably just from lack of sleep.
Today I am traveling with the golems across the dunes to a granite deposit, one of their feeding grounds. They also will consume marble, although finding it in the desert is quite a challenge. Most of them seem to ignore my presence - I feel like an ant walking amongst their lumbering strides. But the rear guard has shown much interest in us. He is a massive stone golem, about 13 feet tall - his one hand is larger than my torso.
I am slowly learning more of their language, a seemingly simple system of low sounds and sign language. They cannot pronounce words, but seem to be able to hear when I speak. The rearguard, who I have been calling Fist (his one hand is almost always kept in a fist), keeps a constant watch over us - two small black eyes set within squared sockets.
I will have to part with the herd soon. If I want to ever get off this planet I need to find my love. I hope he is where he told me he would be. I hope he is still safe.
We made a lot of ground today. However, something tells me things are too quiet. I think I saw several adapter droids in the distance, but the heat coming off the sand blurred my vision. My pack is getting lighter, and I will need to find water soon.
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