Captain Amadou's Log: Year 711 of the Hegira
Entry the Second
The sky's turning a deep shade of purple as I sit down to jot today's odd happenings. We've taken to calling the river Aminata, after a dear one we left behind, and she's proving to be as much a giver of life as she is a taker.
This very afternoon, while we were busy by Aminata's edge, out came a creature from the greenery, unlike any we've seen before. Big as a young bull, with a hide rough enough to scour pots and a mug that looked like it was chewed up and spat out by a hyena. It came at us full tilt, eyes blazing with wild fury.
We all stood our ground, swords in hand—not looking for a fight, mind you, but ready to defend our patch. The beast must've seen something in our stance because it stopped dead in its tracks and skulked back into the jungle.
Aminata sure has a way of keeping us on our toes, showing us her shores ain't just for idling about. But her waters? They're teeming with fish, and they've slaked our thirst more than once. She's a guardian, alright, but one that'll turn on you if you don't watch your step.
Now, with the fire dying down and my mates finding their peace for the night, I'm left to think on how this land's got us by the scruff, yet here we are, staking our claim. Come sunrise, we'll be back at it, shaping this place to our will, always remembering what Aminata's taught us.
May Allah give us the smarts to get to know this place and the guts to stare down whatever comes our way.
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