//look at your navel i mean the sky
//for [watch sky] camp button
//sunset has a scene already

//possibilities:
//morning
//afternoon
//sunset (see above)
//night
[yourwaifu] // if you only have one other person at your camp, this is their name

It's a peaceful [day], the [if (hours >= 12 && hours < 20) {warmth|crispness}] in the air [if (hours >= 6 && hours < 12) {easing you awake|[if (hours >= 12 && hours < 20) {already beating on your [skinshort]|a welcome respite after a hard day's work}]}]}]. Your troubles are all too easy to push aside, and your worries quickly fade away to the familiar [if (camppop=1) {quiet solitude you've come to embrace|sounds of [if (camppop=2) {[yourwaifu]|your camp}]}] [if (hours >= 6 && hours < 12) {starting to rise[if (hours >= 20 && hours < 6) {sleeping soundly{going about [if (camppop=2) {his/her}|their}] day}]}]. You've no pressing matters for the moment, and considering how demanding this place is, that's no common feat. Right now it's just you and the world, the perfect chance to relax how you see fit, and as you [if (singleleg) {slide over|stand}] beside your [cabin], you let your gaze drift up to the sky.

//morning
The darkness has already left, chased away by the dawn until all that remains is a fiery orange that stretches out [if (builtwall) {somewhere far beyond your camp walls|across the rust-red dirt}]. It's a new day all your own, yours to lean back until the sunlight[if (thorn canopy) { slips down between the twisted brambles shrouding your camp and}] leaves you blinking beneath the glare, yours to breathe in until the strange sensation of cool air and soft heat teases across your [skinshort] like a welcoming kiss, and perhaps it's more than a last, lingering yawn that has a content sigh on your lips.

No, there's just something different about a Mareth morning. Because even when the land itself nips at your [if (isnaga) {tail|[if (isgoo) {trail|feet}]}] and seeps down into your soul, the day greets you all the same, always there, never judging. Maybe that's what makes it easy to keep looking ahead at what's still to be done, no matter what happens, no matter how long it takes.

//days > 90
By now it's hard to even remember how things were in Ingnam. Oh there was a sun, of course, but you're sure it must have been a little warmer, a little lower, a little not quite the same color. Not that it matters much now, though. This is what you have, what you've grown used to, and as far as you can tell, this is what you'll have to live with.

And as the soft caress of the morning light washes over you and settles on your [skindesc], maybe that's not such a bad place to be.
//days > 30
It's been a while, admittedly. Yet you're still here, and that's more than all those who came before you can say. It's not a pleasant thought, perhaps, but it's the truth, and it's one that keeps you going even when the demons creep ever closer and returning home seems more and more like a fanciful dream.

And sometimes when [if (pc kids > 0) {you think back on the child[if (pc kids > 1) {ren}] you've had in this world|[if (camppop > 1) {[if (camppop > 2) {your companions sit|[yourwaifu] sits}] beside you around the fire|you sink into the peaceful serenity of your camp}]}], it's easy enough to wonder why you'd ever leave. 

//otherwise (but still morning)
Though by the days scratched into the stone, it's not even been a month. That's a good sign of sorts--it gives you hope you might be done and back in less time than you thought--but there's an unspoken truth that sits deep within your gut, all too eager to remind you it's far too soon to call yourself a survivor yet. Not when the demons seem endless and your goal but a distant dream, at least, though you suppose that you've the time to relax as the morning sun brings a welcome reminder that maybe you're doing just fine.

//merge
Ah, but that's enough of that. The day still beckons, your rest never comes soon enough, and while you might wish you could lie out upon the soil and drink in the rising warmth, there's always more to be done.

//afternoon
Above hangs an endless red smear devoid of any shade, an unbroken stain that serves as a constant reminder you're not of this world. Not truly, at least, no matter [if (days > 30) {how long you've lived here|how much even these scant days have tempered both body and soul}], and yet beneath it all there's the [if (days > 30) {odd feeling that maybe you do belong more than you think|uncomfortable realization that you've already acclimated more than all those who came before}].

Or maybe not. It's hard to say either way, and deep down perhaps some part of you fears the answer you might find. Much easier, then, is to concentrate on the warmth that [if (isgoo) {runs rivulets down your side|[if (hasscales) {leaves your scales hot to the touch|beads on your forehead}]}]}], already promising much more before the day is through. Perhaps it's all in your head, but you'd swear the deep red of the sky only makes the midday heat all the more oppressive.

//days > 90
Though maybe even that implies too much. It's not oppressive so much as it is ever-present, each day the same as the last as if the weather itself were running laps across the sky. And that only makes it more strange, because with all the other surprises of this realm, there's none here. No, you know exactly how it's going to be: hot, cloudless and sunny, only relenting when day finally rolls away into the night.

Which[if (hours > 17) {, fortunately, is soon, but| is still a long ways off, so}] you still have[if (hours < 18) { plenty of}] time to do whatever else needs to be done.

//days > 30
Not that Ingnam was all fluffy clouds and soft blues and gentle rains, no--but you haven't been here long enough to forget those sights, sounds, and even the taste, and now that you've been without, it's hard to stop a wistful pang from rising at the thought.

Still, you can't let yourself dwell on that. Home is here now whether you like it or not, and with each passing day the faint hope of the portal coming back to life shrivels up a little more.

And with that solemn reminder of what awaits, you suppose you'd best get back to your duties. All that's left is to cast one more glance at the red expanse above, [if (hasscales) {bask for but a moment more|wipe away the [if (isgoo) {slime|sweat}] running down your brow}], and head out to what remains of the day.

//otherwise
It's alien, really, and while you might have known that already from the strange fruits and stranger people, those thoughts can slip away with distance, with distractions. But the sky is always there, beaten and bloodied, and all it takes is the slightest tilt of the head, nothing more than a simple check of the time to steal a glimpse of something undeniably wrong.

More than that, it's proof you can assume nothing about this world. Even nature itself is not as you once knew, and though you might trust the sky harmless, to say the same about the water and plants settles in your gut as an uneasy risk. No, you'll just have to take things as they come, weigh each decision with the seriousness it deserves, and never let yourself fall prey to a demon's trick.

And while it's not much of a plan, it's what you have to content yourself with as you finish out the day.

//night
The moon is there as it always is, red and angry and hung high enough up in the black that only within your [cabin] can you escape its touch. It alone stands upon the sky, the heat of the afternoon finally chased away by the cool whisper of the night across your [skinshort], soft and silent enough to make you shiver. Your own [if isgoo(seep and slither|breath] fills your ears, [if (camppop > 2) {your companions|[if (camppop > 1) {[yourwaifu]|the few creatures in this desolate place}]}]}] finally having sunk into sleep.

[if (camppop > 5) {Even with all the people by your side, sometimes when the days grow long and the nights grow restless, it's still hard not to imagine every slip and shadow a demon at [if (builtwall) {your|the}] gates.|Somehow your camp seems even more fragile in the firelight, the flames but a faint flicker against the encroaching dark.}]

//days >= 90
It's not all bad, of course. There's light, red and uncanny though it might be compared to your own world, but it's dependable in a way that very little here is. Food and flora and even time itself seems to follow their own whims, but beneath the bare sky you know with a comforting certainty the moon will light your path, wherever you may go.[if (hours > 22) { Even if it's merely inside your [cabin] to your [bed], a simple trek that seems more enticing all the while.}] 

But for now, it's a moment all your own, the wind a gentle push at your back as you're bathed in the blood of the moon as if [if (thorn canopy) {the thorns surrounding your camp have driven back the night|you've slain [if (corr > 66) {all who might stand in your way|every demon around}]}]. A fantasy, to be sure, but what better time than now to let yourself indulge a little before even you must take your rest.

//days > 30
You're getting used to it, at least a little. Starless and red is simply how the nights are, and though it's still sometimes unnerving to slip an eye open at a distant sound and find the world outside your [cabin] tinged with bloody rot, it comes as a bit less of a surprise each day. And on those nights when sleep doesn't come so simply and your mind wanders inward, you find it easier to believe that you're still here and that perhaps with time you can [if (corr > 66) {have all you desire|do what must be done}].

Not that it makes you any less thankful to etch the end of another day into the stone, to trail your fingers across the marks as you count them up one by one until there's undeniable proof of a month gone past. [if (days > 60) {And then two[if (days > 80) {, almost three}].}] [if (builtcabin) {You've even made a place for yourself, your own little retreat that lets you slip away from thoughts of demons and duties and all of Mareth for a while.|And maybe you're not quite thriving, not yet, but when you think back on the fate of all those who came before, maybe what you have is good enough}].

//otherwise
Around you the moon paints a bloody swathe across the ground, a great yawning gash that seems to creep ever closer with every beat of your heart until even you are swallowed alive. And there it lingers, casting you [if (skin color = red) {almost invisible against the night|in sickly imp-skin}] beneath a cloudless sky, and perhaps it's not yours to say whether chance or fate or cold, cruel malevolence guides its gaze.

It stands as starkest proof that Ingnam is gone, that even the darkness of the night won't let you imagine yourself back home, and though you might cast out a wish upon a star, there are none to be found. All that's left is you[if (camppop > 10) { and your budding camp|[if (camppop > 2) { and the few souls you've brought into the fold|[if (camppop ==2) { and [yourwaifu]}]}]}] against the world, each day another battle to stay alive.

To stay yourself, even [if (corr > 33 or race not human) {if that seems further away than ever before|when this realm tries its hardest to twist and warp you to its whims}]. That's about all you can do, really, because if nothing else, it's kept you safe so far.

//merge
And in the end, maybe that's what matters most. This is no place for lingering back in thoughts of what's been[if (days > 90) { long }] lost, and with one last drink of cool air to clear your mind, you steel yourself for the final tasks of this dying day.