Amun was confused. That was putting his situation lightly. Amunet still hadn't told him how long it'd exactly been since he separated from her. He'd spent every single day in her mind and the passage of time was blurred and abstract to him. He remembered some of her feelings and some minor events but much of it was confused and, he assumed, out of order. He remembered moments of pain the most but he didn't like dwelling on those. He didn't understand why his sister would willingly cause harm to herself by staying around these creatures with such short lives. He didn't understand why they were so important to her. There was so much he didn't understand or couldn't remember. He knew he was an adult now but he didn't remember growing to be one. He'd been out a few times, yes, but there were many gaps in his memories. There was one question that burned in his mind but he was too afraid of the answer to ask Amunet. She was his sister. She wouldn't hurt him. Yet why had she kept him held in her mind for so long? Had he done something to frighten or hurt her or one of the mortals she seemed to care so much about? That was the only reason he could think of but he couldn't confront that.

Instead, he needed to focus on simple things. He had forgotten all the simple joys that came with having a physical form, such as eating and feeling the wind in his fur and the dirt beneath his paws. He'd already found so many rocks, it was incredible. He'd forgotten how abundant they were in most areas. He'd only been able to admire memories or rocks and plants just days ago but now they were here before them. He had quietly grouped them all, evidently by size, and his lips could be seen moving slightly as he set them out. Names. He was naming them, though his voice was far too quiet for anyone to pick up what he was saying.

He'd found another new, incredible creation. He'd found them shortly after his arrival. They were small plastic items that had black dots in them that moved when shaken. They appeared as eyes and he thought it was quite humorous to stick them on whatever he saw fit. He liked the extra character they gave his little rocks and knickknacks. However, if one saw him now, placing the little eyes on his rocks, they wouldn't think he took much joy from it. His face was completely devoid of any emotion as he worked, as though the task was a great duty rather than a humorous project to add some personality to his beloved rocks.