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trips to the lake: a little flock had come down to the bank to drink.  They were north, out beyond the buildings, and wandered off when I went near them.  I'm pretty sure they are sheep, since they looked woolly, but they had horns, and long hair growing in the wool.  The horns make me a bit nervous, but I'm hoping I can go and cut some wool off them.  Unless they have pointy teeth, in which case I'll pass. 
    Sheepses
    The hairy sheep are guarded by great big hairy rams.  All of them except the little ones have horns, but the rams have big twirling ones, and scarred foreheads from bashing up against each other or anything silly enough to come near their ewes.  I bet the ewes would give me a good knock too, and in the end I decided not to risk any of them.  They might have been domesticated once, but they're not keen on people now.
    I still came back with a haul of wool, though.  The sheep live on the hills north of town, the biggest unforested patch of ground I've seen so far.  Other than a few trees, the grass is broken up by rocks and berry bushes.  These are a different sort to the tearberries, also green but going on pink.  More sour than cranberries, so I'm guessing they're not ripe yet either.  Anyway, the important thing about them is they're thorny, and snag anything which comes near them.
    For the price of a few scratches I filled my backpack with tufts of wool, crammed in hard, and there's plenty more back there.  The wool is yellow and grotty, but a huge step up from string made out of grass stalks.  I have a thousand plans for it, but first on the list is cleaning it.  Which means tomorrow I'm going to have to bite the bullet and try to make fire.
    If I can manage fire, I should get lanolin as well as clean wool.  I don't exactly know what I'll do with the lanolin – keep my skin nice? – but it can't hurt to have it.
    Sunday, December 2
    Moonfall
    Last night was only the second time I've seen the moon.  This time it was full.
    I was still sitting on the roof of Fort Cass when it rose.  All the buildings were slowly picked out in blueish white and it was like looking down at a ghost of a town, everything a shimmering mirage, not real at all.  The circles in the centre of each roof became the brightest part of each building, until it looked like the light was flowing out from them.  And it was.  I was sitting right next to one, and didn't know whether to stay or run when a thick mist began to creep out from the centre circle.  But who could not find out what it was like to touch?
    About a year ago I was friends with Perry Ryan.  Her parents were hardly ever home, and she liked to drink and smoke.  The smoking I wasn't so keen on, but I thought the drinking was great.  It made me feel like I had a personality.  I really loved it until Alyssa dragged me out of a party at Perry's house and woke me up enough to tell me I'd been snogging Matt Wilson.  The kind of jerk who takes photos.  Alyssa went all Mum on me thanks to that, and no more Perry parties.
    So the way that cold blue light made me feel warm and happy wasn't exactly new, and I curled around the circle like it was a hot water bottle and let myself enjoy it.  After that, I was quickly into the everything's a blur stage.  I don't know what made me go looking for more.  But I went downstairs (barefoot!) and then to a place I'd only glanced at before, an amphitheatre of step-like whitestone seats in the middle of town.  When I'd looked at it during the day, the place had been infested with cats, but that night there was just the light.  Gallons of it, drifting off all the buildings and washing into the amphitheatre where a huge version of the circles was glowing so strong the light rose in a column.  I went and stood in it, of course, and tried to drink the air, which was more like a heavy fog than a liquid.  I've never felt better or happier or more alive than last night, standing there with my arms outstretched and my mouth