Feign jumps and runs in amongst the trees, his feet are still a tad too slick to trust on the branches.  Even unable to travel in the branches, it's not long before he found his way to the river, where a reasonably sized waterfall made an ideal spot for bathing.  As much as he was getting to like the smaell, there wasn't a chance of him catching anything while smelling like naga pussy.<br/><br/>As he bathed, he took a few leaves and magicly formes them into a pair of flat bowls, which he filled with water.  Another set of spells turned the water to ice, and the surface of the ice into a pair of perfectly smooth mirrors.<br/><br/>He carefully studies the patch of scales on his neck as he mentally notes the implications of them existing.  Between this and the hatching of the newborns, he would definitely fill another journal or two.<br/><br/>With that done, he finishes his bath, turning a mat of bark into a towell, then changing it again into a dark brown set of clothing.<br/><br/>His next tasks are to find something dead for himself to eat and something small, live and edible for the newborns to play with.